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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23288398">The Afterwards &amp; Inbetweens:  Season 1</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitchpell/pseuds/mitchpell'>mitchpell</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Afterwards &amp; Inbetweens [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Lucifer (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Demon Face, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Devil Face (Lucifer TV), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, Episode: s01e04 Manly Whatnots, Episode: s01e05 Sweet Kicks, Episode: s01e06 Favorite Son, Episode: s01e3 The Would Be Prince of Darkness, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Interlude, Missing Scene, Season/Series 01, Therapy, Whump, Wing Scars, devil Lucifer/demon Maze, devil body, full devil</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:49:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>21,794</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23288398</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitchpell/pseuds/mitchpell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Afterwards &amp; Inbetweens is a series of one shots that delve into the missing scenes from many of the episodes from each season.  This first installment focuses on the episodes from Season 1.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Amenadiel &amp; Mazikeen (Lucifer TV), Chloe Decker &amp; Dan Espinoza, Chloe Decker &amp; Lucifer Morningstar, Chloe Decker &amp; Trixie Espinoza, Dan Espinoza &amp; Lucifer Morningstar, Dan Espinoza &amp; Trixie Espinoza, Linda Martin &amp; Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Linda Martin/Mazikeen (Lucifer TV), Mazikeen &amp; Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Mazikeen/Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Trixie Espinoza &amp; Lucifer Moningstar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Afterwards &amp; Inbetweens [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1674817</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>113</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. s01e01:  Pilot</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>My take on what happens after Chloe is shot, but before she awakes in the hospital.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Many thanks to <a href="https://fleuresty.tumblr.com/">fleuresty</a> for all the help and suggestions as my beta reader.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lucifer couldn’t stop the small laugh that bubbled out of him as Jimmy screamed.  The sound of his terrified cries, the smell of his fear, the look of panic as he saw his damnation in Lucifer’s hellfire eyes, all before he dissolved into a blithering wreck, pulled a cruel smile across the Devil’s raw lips.  It felt...good, satisfying, this need...this...want he hadn’t realized he’d had, to exact punishment.  Not just for Delilah, but for himself.  To reclaim a piece of himself that had been lying all but dormant, buried under five years worth of parties, sex, and drugs.</p>
<p>A labored breath drug his attention back from his small Hell-on-Earth.  He slid his hand almost lovingly down Jimmy’s cheek, relishing the feeling of the raw skin of his hand scraping down the human’s stubble, allowing the claw of his index finger to drag a little, not enough to break the skin, but enough to leave a pale red mark in its wake, before dropping the human stain and leaving him to collapse in an undignified heap of incoherence.</p>
<p>Lucifer shifted his appearance, banishing the monster within, and allowing the...other to return, before turning back to the Detective.</p>
<p>“Bloody hell” he muttered as he looked down on her.  The puddle of blood beneath her had grown considerably and he feared for a moment that she’d die from that if nothing else.  “Sorry, sorry,” he apologized, as he kneeled over her, “guess I got a little caught up in the moment.” Her frantic eyes locked with his and he faltered for a moment, struck with the sudden realization that if this mere mortal would die, the blade of grief would be plunged deep.</p>
<p>“Right,” he said, as he tore his gaze away from hers.  “Let’s see what we’ve got, shall we?”</p>
<p>He grabbed a hold of her shirt collar and tore it slightly, the light fabric yielding readily to his light touch. He could decipher little from the wound. As extensive as his knowledge was of human anatomy, he could not discern through the blood and the small hole what damage had been done. The only clear indication of the extent of the bullet's damage was the ever-growing pool of blood and harsh sound of her breathing.</p>
<p>“This would be so much easier if I still had my wings,” he told her with a self-deprecating smile. The admission had him reaching for the amputated limbs, drawing phantom pains to the stumps buried in his back. He looked back to her, the fear in her eyes refocusing him to the task at hand. He reached up to cup her cheek. “I can’t heal you,” he told her, regret heavy in his words, “but...perhaps I can hold onto you. If you allow me.”</p>
<p>Lucifer took her hand in his and held it tightly against his chest, whilst the other continued to caress her cheek. “Chloe,” he called to her. She was looking at him, but not really. Her gaze was turned other-ward and unfocused.</p>
<p>“Chloe, I need you to look at me,” Lucifer demanded, his tone gentle but leaving no room to be ignored, dragging her back from the threshold where no doubt Azrael was waiting. “Hold on to me,” he ordered, clutching her hand tighter as he pressed it against his chest, anchoring not just her body but her soul to his.</p>
<p>*~*</p>
<p>“Trix!” Dan called loudly, essentially shouting from the kitchen to be heard over the overly-loud TV in the other room.  “You want chocolate syrup on your ice cream?”</p>
<p>“Duh!”</p>
<p>Dan couldn’t help but smile, shaking his head at his daughter’s antics as he took the Hershey’s syrup out of the fridge.  He’d just finished topping both bowls off with a generous helping of chocolaty goodness when his phone rang, the caller ID displaying an unknown number. </p>
<p>“Espinoza,” he answered distractedly, pinching the phone between his ear and shoulder as he returned the syrup to the fridge.</p>
<p>“Dan, it's Paolucci.”</p>
<p>Dan frowned into his fridge, wondering why the hell Tony was calling him.  He hadn’t even realized the other detective had his personal number.</p>
<p>“I’m down here at KMB Recording Studios, on Washington Blvd.”  Paolucci continued, before Dan could voice his confusion.  “Turns out that bit...that wife of yours got shot making an arrest on Jimmy Barnes.  EMTs are taking her over to Dignity.”</p>
<p>Dan froze, fridge only half closed, the motion aborted as he tried to process what Paolucci had just told him.  But the only thing his shock-addled brain could muster was a confused “What?” followed by a half-whispered “Is she alright?”</p>
<p>“Fuck do I know.  She was conscious when the EMTs took her, but apart from that…”</p>
<p>Dan licked his lips, attempting to push down the worry growing in the pit of his stomach, before shaking his head.  “Right.  Dignity?” he confirmed.</p>
<p>“Yeah, Dignity.”</p>
<p>“Ok.  Thanks...thanks, Tony.”</p>
<p>“Sure.”</p>
<p>“Shit,” Dan muttered, looking down at the bowls of melting ice cream.  He stood there, locked in place, the thought ‘Chloe’s been shot’ running on repeat through his mind.</p>
<p>“Dad!  Hurry up!”</p>
<p>Trixie. “Ok, kiddo!” He called back, forcing his thoughts to stop spiraling. Compartmentalize. He could do this. “Shit,” he muttered again as he picked back up his phone and scrolled through the contacts. </p>
<p>“Hola mamá. ¿Podrías ver a Trixie durante unas horas? Chloe se lastimó en el trabajo y necesito ir al hospital.”</p>
<p>Snatching up the two bowls, Dan shouldered the freezer open and stuck them inside.  “No no. Ella está bien. Ok, en realidad, no sé ... no sé nada. Acabo de recibir la llamada.”</p>
<p>“No, no se lo he dicho.”</p>
<p>“No quiero que se preocupe, especialmente si no hay nada de qué preocuparse.”</p>
<p>“Gracias mamá. La dejaré de camino al hospital. Te veo pronto. También te amo, adiós.”</p>
<p>“Daddy?”  Trixie yelled from the other room, “you’re missing it!”</p>
<p>“Sorry, Munchkin,” Dan apologized as he made his way back into the living room, allowing his regret for his daughter to mask his concern for his wife. “But Minions are going to have to wait.”</p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>Dan couldn’t help but grimace at the thoroughly dejected tone of her question.  It tore at his heart, but he couldn’t see anyway around breaking hers.  Again.  “Work called,” he told her as he crouched down beside her on the couch, “and Daddy’s going to have to go out.”  It wasn’t a lie, not quite the truth either, but he could at least find comfort in the fact that even though he was breaking her heart, he wasn’t lying to her.</p>
<p>“Can’t I come with you?”  She asked, small and dejected, looking at him with a sadness that cut him to the bone.  “Please.”</p>
<p>“You know you can’t.  I’m going to drop you at Litta’s, so I need you to run upstairs and grab your pajamas and toothbrush and put them in your overnight bag.”</p>
<p>“Ok,” she said, her disappointment almost palpable, as she slid off the couch and shuffled towards the stairs.</p>
<p>Dan blew out a breath as he stood up. He ran his fingers through his hair as he watched his daughter sulk up the stairs. He hated hurting her, but it was all he seemed to be doing recently. He was constantly being pulled away, usually by work, being forced to break promises. At least tonight, though she’d never know it, it was for a good reason.</p>
<p>It didn’t take long before she was shuffling back down the stairs, her overnight bag dragging behind, accenting each of her steps with a woeful thump as it followed her descent. “You got everything?” he asked, coming to pick up her bag once she made it to the bottom.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” was her detached response.</p>
<p>“Ok, let's go then,” he said, placing his hand on her back to gently push her towards the door.</p>
<p>*~*</p>
<p>Lucifer grimaced as he shifted position in the pitiful excuse for a chair. His side was killing him. It was uncharacteristically tender and the cheap plastic he was currently perched on was doing nothing to alleviate the pain radiating up and down his ribcage. </p>
<p>It was concerning. Mostly because it shouldn’t be there in the first place. He’d been tempted to see to it, but hadn’t wanted to leave his vigil over the Detective as it was. There were still two uniformed officers mulling around, but none of them seemed truly concerned. It was as if the Detective truly had ostracized herself completely from her colleagues, both beneath and equal to her. Which was the reason he’d stayed, or so he told himself. So that she wouldn’t wake up alone. That, and he wanted to be sure that he hadn’t stuck his neck out for nothing.</p>
<p>Tethering her soul to the Earthly plane was potentially enough selfish use of divinity, enough tampering with humanity, to piss off dear old Dad enough to send someone other than Amenadiel. Someone less sympathetic and unwilling to bargain with the family’s castaway. Like Michael or Gabriel. With them, there would be no discussion. They would toss him back down to Hell without so much as a by your leave. And without his wings, there’d be little he could do to stop it and nothing he could do to get back.  It had been foolish, risking so much for this nobody. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d never done anything more right in his entire existence.</p>
<p>The emergency doors burst open at that moment, breaking his reverie and dragging his attention to the person responsible.  The detective’s ex-maggot.  Lucifer watched as he crossed the room, spoke briefly with the intake nurses, before finally turning his attention to the uniformed officers.  He couldn’t hear what was said given the distance and the prattle of the news anchor on the many television screens.  It ended when one of the two officers pointed in his direction.</p>
<p>Lucifer remained the image of composure as the Douche approached, leaning back in the torturous seat, despite the discomfort that flamed up his side, casually crossing his legs and resting his hands upon his thighs.</p>
<p>“What the hell did you do?” the Douche demanded, hands resting defensively on his hips as he attempted to loom over him.</p>
<p>“You mean other than save her life?” Lucifer asked, exuding innocence.</p>
<p>“A situation, I’m sure, she wouldn’t have been in if it wasn’t for you.”</p>
<p>“Now hold on,” Lucifer demanded, as he rose smoothly to his feet, forcing the smaller man back, his ire growing despite himself.  He in no way needed to defend himself to this human, but he’d defend her.  </p>
<p>“She was the one that put the pieces together, discovered what Jimmy was up to, and insisted on going in alone.  A situation, as I understand it, that’s been perpetuated repeatedly by your lack of support.”  He smiled knowingly as the other man flinched, revelving in the effect his words had on the lesser being in front of him.  “Seems to me you should be thanking me.”</p>
<p>“Thanking you?” the ex-maggot asked incredulously, “for what, almost getting her killed?”  </p>
<p>“For taking your place,” Lucifer retorted, voice like silk. “For filling the opening that you left, because, otherwise,” he paused briefly, “she’d be dead.”  He met the other man’s eyes, forcing his attention with only the smallest hint of his power.  “And the guilt,” he tutted, “the guilt of it would drag you down, deep into your own self-made hell.”</p>
<p>*~*</p>
<p>Dan couldn’t look away.  Truth was, he didn’t want to look away.  He was both equal parts terrified and enthralled.  A cold sweat broke out and he was subconsciously aware of it rolling down both his spine and temple.  He couldn’t breathe.  His chest continued to rise and fall, but no air was getting in.  He was suffocating in the depths of the other man’s gaze, could almost see the hell he spoke of, could feel the weight of it pressing down on him, crushing him.</p>
<p>“Family of Chloe Decker?”</p>
<p>The words called loudly across the room broke whatever hold the other man had had on him, and Dan was able to look away.  He took a cautious step back, before taking a deep breath and nervously licking his lips.  “You just stay the hell away from her,” he told Morningstar, the threat ringing hollow to his own ears.  “You hear me,” he added, trying to strengthen his resolve, “stay the hell away.”</p>
<p>Dan turned to the staff member who’d called for him, presenting his back to Morningstar.  An act that should have conveyed dismissal, but only left him feeling exposed, as if a seed of fear was deposited into his stomach.</p>
<p>“That’s me,” he said to the staffer.  “How is she?”</p>
<p>“If you’ll follow me.” He said as he gestured towards a wall of doors. </p>
<p>The doors, it turned out, led to a small conference room. Big enough to hold a small table with four chairs surrounding it, two on either side, with a second door leading out opposite of where he’d entered. Dan took the seat that was offered to him by the staffer before the man excused himself with a promise that the doctor would be with him shortly.</p>
<p>Dan was glad to put some distance between himself and the weirdo nightclub owner. The guy took freak to a whole new level.  Between the whole devil bit -- whether it was an act or a delusion was irrelevant, crazy was crazy -- and the hypnotic staring, it left him feeling downright unnerved.</p>
<p>Dan all but jumped at the light knock on the door set opposite to him. “Mr. Decker?” a female, the doctor if he were to guess, confirmed. </p>
<p>“It’s Espinoza,” he corrected, before explaining. “Chloe kept her maiden name. How is she?”</p>
<p>“It was a little touch and go there at the beginning. She lost a lot of blood due to the bullet tearing the subclavian vein. Luckily, it wasn’t the artery, but even so, large veins can cause significant blood loss. However, aside from that, there was relatively little tissue damage.  All in all, we expect her to make a full recovery.”</p>
<p>Dan sighed in relief. “So she’s going to be ok?”</p>
<p>“Barring any unforeseen complications, she should be good as new in a few weeks.”</p>
<p>Dan bit back a laugh, overwrought from dispelled tension, before wiping at his eyes, surprised to find moisture there. “Can I see her?”</p>
<p>“She’s in recovery right now. In an hour or so, she’ll be moved into her own room and you can see her then.”</p>
<p>“Thank you.”</p>
<p>The doctor nodded as she stood up. “If you’ll head back out into the waiting room, someone will let you know as soon as she’s allowed visitors.”</p>
<p>Dan nodded, before he stood and shook the doctor’s hand. “Thank you, again.”</p>
<p>“You’re welcome.”</p>
<p>Dan took a minute to further compose himself before returning to the waiting room.  He found that while the two uniforms were still there, Morningstar wasn’t.</p>
<p>“Where’d the nightclub owner go?”</p>
<p>“Last I saw, he was headed towards the restrooms.”</p>
<p>Dan nodded, as he glanced in the direction of the men’s room before turning back to the officers.  “What’s his story?  Why was he with Detective Decker?”</p>
<p>One of the uniforms shrugged.  “He was on scene when we showed up.  Refused to leave.  Insisted on riding in the ambulance with her.  And we just,” he frowned, as if he were struggling to recall events. “We couldn’t...couldn’t say no.  None of us could.”</p>
<p>“He wouldn’t let go of her hand,” the other added.  “And she was fixated on him.  Like if she looked away that was it.  Weirdest thing I've ever seen.”  </p>
<p>Dan looked back towards the restrooms, narrowing his eyes as if glaring at the nightclub owner through the wall.  “Did he give a statement?” he asked, keeping his eye on the restrooms.  </p>
<p>“Not yet.”</p>
<p>“Alright.” Dan said as he finally turned back to the officers.  “The doctor said she’s out of the woods and that it might be a few hours before she’s allowed visitors.  Why don’t you guys head out.  I’ll get Morningstar’s statement and notify the precinct when Decker’s awake and able to give hers.”</p>
<p>The two men nodded before turning and walking back out the emergency room’s double doors.  Dan watched them go for a minute before moving off in the direction of the restrooms.  He pushed the door open and found Morningstar standing in front of the mirror, jacket removed and shirt pulled up, exposing his right side.  Dark blues and purples camouflaged the entirety of the exposed skin, radiating out from what looked like three distinct impact points, almost like old paintball or pellet gun welts.</p>
<p>The bruising in and of itself wasn’t what was strange, at least not overtly.  After all, Dan had no idea what weird ass shit Morningstar was into and quite frankly he didn’t want to know.  What was strange; however, was the utterly dumbfounded look on the other man’s face.  Like this was the first time he’d seen what had to be four to five day old bruising given the size and coloring of the marks.  Upon noticing his arrival, Morningstar, with feigned indifference, lowered the shirt and tucked it back in, unable to hide the wince as he did.  Dan however, was more interested in the three small holes in the now replaced garment.</p>
<p>“How’s the Detective?” Morningstar asked, pulling Dan’s attention from the damaged clothing.</p>
<p>“Doctor said she should be fine.”</p>
<p>“Wonderful.  Then I guess my work here is done.”</p>
<p>He went to move past, but Dan stepped over blocking the door, holding up a hand to stop him.  “Not yet.”  At Morningstar’s raised eyebrow, he continued, “I told the officers out front that I’d get your statement.  Plus, I’m going to need your clothes.”  Morningstar practically leered at him for that comment, causing Dan to scoff.  “As evidence.  They’re covered in blood.”</p>
<p>“Right,” Morningstar replied, before taking a step back to lean casually if not gingerly against the sink.  He then gestured to Dan in a take-it-away manner.</p>
<p>“Not here.  I’ll see if I can’t get us access to one of the small conference rooms you meet with the doctors in and get a hazmat bag for your clothes.  Do you have someone you can call to bring you something else to wear, or should I ask for a pair of scrubs or something?”</p>
<p>Morningstar scoffed at that.  “I will not subject myself to sandpaper articles of the healthcare profession, thank you.  Mazikeen can bring me something, but I’ll need to borrow your phone.”</p>
<p>Dan looked at him in disbelief.  “You don’t have a phone?”</p>
<p>“Downfall of society, if you ask me.”</p>
<p>“Whatever, man.”  Dan took his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it.  He hesitated a moment before handing the device over.  “Don’t make me regret this.”</p>
<p>“Wouldn’t dream of it.”</p>
<p>Dan couldn’t stop from shaking his head yet again. “Just...meet me back in the waiting room when you’re done.”</p>
<p>“Of course.”</p>
<p>Dan gave the nightclub owner one last warning look before leaving the restroom.  He quickly secured both a room for their interview and a bag for Morningstar’s clothes, during which time Morningstar re-emerged from the men’s room.  Dan herded him into the small conference room and motioned for him to sit, which he did with an air of graceful boredom.</p>
<p>“If it's alright with you,” Dan started, “I’m going to record this on my cell phone.”</p>
<p>“Absolutely.  I have nothing to hide.”</p>
<p>Dan opened his voice memo app, hit record, and set the phone down on the table between them.  “Can you state your full name for the record.”</p>
<p>“Lucifer Morningstar.”</p>
<p>“Can you describe the events leading up to you and Detective Decker arriving at KMB Recording Studios?”</p>
<p>“The Detective and I were at Lux sharing a drink, discussing the case...amongst other things. When we heard about the skyrocketing sales of Delilah’s last album on the news.  The Detective put together that Jimmy orchestrated Delilah’s last rise of fame by using the watch she gave him to pay for her murder.  A quick call to Jimmy's office gave us his location and off we went.”</p>
<p>The almost playful manner in which Morningstar relayed the events grated on him. As if neither of their safeties mattered. “And neither of you thought to call in for backup?”</p>
<p>Morningstar shrugged.  “As I told you earlier, my understanding was that there wasn’t anyone to make that call to.”</p>
<p>Dan scoffed, but he couldn’t truly dispute the claim.  “What happened when you got there?”</p>
<p>“The Detective and I confronted Jimmy.  In response, he produced a gun and acquired a human shield.  I placed myself between Jimmy and the Detective, intent on administering the much deserved punishment, at which time Jimmy turned the gun on me, and the Detective foolishly opened fire.”</p>
<p>“Detective Decker shot first?”</p>
<p>“She felt my life was in danger.”</p>
<p>“But you didn’t?”</p>
<p>“Devil, remember,” he stated as if he were speaking to someone a little slow on the uptake, “means I’m immortal.”</p>
<p>“Right.”  Dan said before leaning forward. “How did Detective Decker get shot?”</p>
<p>Morningstar looked away at the question, something close to guilt flickering across his face.  “I thought Jimmy’s wound to be fatal and might have...distracted the Detective as a result.”</p>
<p>“Distracted her?”</p>
<p>“I may have...accused her of denying Jimmy his punishment.”</p>
<p>Dan raised an eyebrow at that.  “Care to elaborate on that?”</p>
<p>“No.  All that matters is that I distracted her, distracted us, and Jimmy was able to fire off two rounds.  One of which struck the Detective.”</p>
<p>“So it was your fault?” he accused. The anger and frustration and worry that had been building up inside of him all night threatening to boil over.</p>
<p>The look Morningstar turned on him made Dan’s breath catch in his throat. Jesus, it was almost as if they literally burned with fury. “No. Jimmy Barnes is the only one at fault here.”</p>
<p>“Ok,” Dan conceded, raising his hands slightly in a placating manner. He paused to take a calming breath as Morningstar turned away and, damn if he couldn’t find another word for it, released him. He cleared his throat, before asking, “what happened next?”</p>
<p>Morningstar shrugged, once again the picture of playful indifference. “I enacted my punishment on Jimmy and then proceeded to save the Detective’s life.”</p>
<p>“How’d you get the holes in your shirt?”</p>
<p>Morningstar looked confused for a moment, before realizing.  “Oh!  That’s where Jimmy shot me.”</p>
<p>Dan blinked. Wait, what?  “Barnes shot you?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“Where?”</p>
<p>Morningstar pursed his lips as if considering.  “Three times in the side, twice in the chest, and once in the leg. Though the leg was more of a graze. I think it’s safe to say that at that point panic was affecting his aim.”</p>
<p>“You’re telling me Jimmy Barnes shot you six times?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“And you expect me to believe that?” Dan wakes incredulously. “Believe that a six times over gunshot victim is sitting here...completely fine.”</p>
<p>“Well, not completely, as you noticed.  Strange, that,” he muttered, more to himself than to Dan.</p>
<p>Dan felt the anger returning. “You’re telling me that the four-to-five-day-old bruises I saw are from Jimmy Barnes shooting you.  Tonight.”</p>
<p>“Yes.” Morningstar replied with a hint of exasperation, as if Dan was the one being unreasonable.  “Think of me what you will, Detective, but I don’t lie.”</p>
<p>“Sure.”  Dan conceded, if the man truly believed his own delusions, then technically they weren't lies.  “Anything else you want to add.”</p>
<p>Morningstar shook his head.  “Nope.  I think that about does it.”</p>
<p>Dan nodded just as there was a knock on the door leading back out into the waiting room.  </p>
<p>“Mazikeen Smith is here,” the staffer said after he stuck his head inside.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Dan replied as he reached across the table and stopped the recording. As he stood up he once again addressed Morningstar. “I need you to strip down and put everything in the bag. Clothes, belt, shoes, everything. Then you can go.  I’ll be waiting outside.”</p>
<p>“Sure you don’t want to stay and watch?” Morningstar leered as he stood gracefully and began unbuttoning his shirt.</p>
<p>Dan didn’t respond, just shook his head in disbelief as he slipped outside, brushing past Morningstar’s bartender on his way out.</p>
<p>*~*</p>
<p>Maze glared at the human as she pushed past him into the room she’d been told held Lucifer. She didn’t understand it, Lucifer’s sudden obsession with these humans, these detectives. And what she didn’t understand infuriated her.</p>
<p>She’d been patient these past five years. Mostly because she’d had no other option. He was her King and she was sworn to him. That and she literally had no other option. He was her only way home. So she’d waited, biding her time with sex and drugs and other Earthly pleasures. Waiting for him to tire of the monotony of it. But he hadn’t. And now, this woman...this human had thrown more fuel on an already raging fire. She found it difficult not to break the door as she slammed it shut behind her. </p>
<p>Lucifer looked up at her from where he was undoing his shirt. “Dearie me, Maze. What’s gotten into you?”  There was a playfulness to his tone, but then when wasn’t there, these days? “Did I spoil your night? If I have, I’ll be sure to make it up to you.”</p>
<p>She laughed, more in frustration than anything, but any retort she might come up with died on her lips as she took in the sight of him. The bruising along his side, fading from purple to greenish-yellow, and two welts marking his chest. She closed the distance between them in two short strides, tossing the garment bag she’d been carrying on the table as she passed it. She traced her fingers over the wounded flesh, but didn’t touch. “Where is he?” She demanded, making no attempt to mask her rage. </p>
<p>Lucifer sighed in what might be called disgusted fondness before reaching past her for the discarded garment bag. “He’s not here, Maze, and this,” he said as he gestured to the blemished skin, “was not his doing.”</p>
<p>“Then who?”</p>
<p>“Not who, but what.”</p>
<p>“What?” She practically barked, rage giving way in part to confusion and, though she was loathe to admit it, concern. “The only thing that should be capable of doing something like that to you are these,” she said as she withdrew her knives. “And they don’t bruise, they pierce.”</p>
<p>“Yes, well...perhaps we might need to add bullets to that list as well.”</p>
<p>“Perhaps?” She asked. As if the evidence was blatantly obvious. </p>
<p>“Yes. They didn’t break the skin, only bruised, so…”</p>
<p>“How can you be so flippant about this?” she interrupted, incredulous. </p>
<p>“Come now, Maze, what is life without a little mystery? Hmm?”</p>
<p>Maze watched in disbelief as he smoothed nonexistent wrinkles out of his fresh suit, knowing he was dismissing her. “Now be a dear and give that to the Detective out there. The douchey one you passed on the way in. I’ll meet you in the car.”</p>
<p>Maze barely resisted the urge to plunge her knives into his back as he sauntered past. Quelching her anger and concern, she sheeth her knives, snatched up the bag of ruined clothing and followed her King out of the room.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Translation of Dan's Conversation with his Mom:</p>
<p>"Hi Mom. Could you watch Trixie for a few hours? Chloe got hurt on the job and I need to go to the hospital. ”</p>
<p>Snatching up the two bowls, Dan shouldered the freezer open and stuck them inside.  “No no. She is fine. Okay, actually, I don't know ... I don't know anything. I just received the call.”</p>
<p>"No, I haven't told her."</p>
<p>"I don't want her to worry, especially if there is nothing to worry about."</p>
<p>"Thanks Mom. I'll drop her off on the way to the hospital. See you soon. Love you too, bye.”</p>
<p>*~*</p>
<p>Thank you for reading!  Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. s01e03:  The Would-Be Prince of Darkness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>My take on what happens:</p>
<p>1) Immediately what Ronnie Hillman leaves Lux to fetch Luciphony (aka Justin from Sherman Oaks).</p>
<p>2) After Lucifer releases Luciphony and Ronnie Hillman is arrested.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Many thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlutteringPhalanges/pseuds/FlutteringPhalanges">FlutteringPhalanges</a> and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/venividivictorious/pseuds/venividivictorious">venividivictorious</a> for all the help and suggestions as my beta readers.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Sit tight,” Dan fumed as he jabbed the button for the penthouse floor.  “Just sit tight and we’ll all get what we want.”  Like they were the pawns.  Just sitting around and waiting to be issued orders or discarded how that arrogant cock-sucker chose.</p>
<p>“Dan…”</p>
<p>“Don’t,” he snapped, before climbing into the elevator.  “Don’t defend him, Chloe.”</p>
<p>“I’m not defending him,” she countered as she followed him to the elevator, her placating tone grating on his last nerve.  “But I’m not condemning him either.”</p>
<p>Dan shook his head as he turned his gaze to the ceiling, as if the fluorescent lighting could alleviate his disbelief.  “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he muttered before turning to look at her again. “He crossed us, Chloe, putting your case and mine, one that I’d been working on for years, in jeopardy…”</p>
<p>“I know, Dan,” she interrupted, “believe me, I know exactly the position he’s put us in.”</p>
<p>“But?” he asked, unable to mask his contempt. Contempt at Morningstar for putting them in this situation, contempt at Chloe for the argument she was about to make on the asshole’s account, and contempt for himself for already conceding to it.</p>
<p>“But he did manage to hire Hillman. Maybe not in the way we’d wanted. Maybe in a way that doesn’t allow us to have full control of the situation. But he got the job done, and within a few hours, we should have her dead to rights.”</p>
<p>“Should,” he stated, trying to sound doubtful, but it just came off flat and resigned. “You trust this guy?”</p>
<p>“After everything that I’ve witnessed?” She hesitated a moment, eyes going distant as if reliving some private memory. He was tempted to ask, curious as to what she’d seen and how it would match up to his own, albeit limited, experiences with the man.  But for some reason, he hesitated.</p>
<p>“No,” she said a moment later as she looked back at him, the look on her face leaving him no doubt in her sincerity.  “Not in the slightest.”</p>
<p>Dan nodded as the elevator chimed and the doors slid open to Morningstar’s penthouse. “Good,” he told her and then stepped out of the elevator.</p>
<p>*~*</p>
<p>Maze made no attempt to curb her anger as she paced the length of Lucifer’s penthouse, watching as the uniformed officers packed the remainder of their surveillance equipment.  They kept shooting her looks, brief glances that betrayed their unease at her presence.  The stench of fear rolled off of them in waves, further fueling not only her rage, but also her desire, reawakening the lust that Lucifer had doused downstairs.</p>
<p>It was perverse.  This...thing that was warping her King, perverting him into something she wouldn’t be able to recognize soon, awakening inside of her feelings she did not understand.  A tension that threatened to seize every muscle, restricting her movements, a tightening in her chest until she almost found it difficult to breathe. </p>
<p>She knew its name, for it was an intimate friend and a ruinous weapon.  One that she’d wield against the many beasts and damned souls of hell.  She normally basked in its presence, much as she was right now.  But until recently, it had never endeavored to turn on her, never risked taking up residence in her mind, causing her pause, to second guess.  Leaving her doubting and without course, where normally there would be no hesitation.  She needed answers.  She needed...fuck if she didn’t need reassurance.  And she was going to go get it.  Even if she had to beat it out of him.</p>
<p>The elevator chimed, revealing the object of her agitation. She waited, barely contained as Lucifer traded places with the officers, her own emotions now rolling off of her, betraying her, threatening to close the distance between them when their physical bodies had not. Furious at him for what he’d reduced her to and at herself for allowing it, she breached that gap, slamming him into the doors of the lift. And he let her, let her move him when she should not have been able. The knowledge of it flayed her anew.</p>
<p>“What is this?” She demanded, fury emanating from every facet of her.  “What is this thing that cowers from what should be done?”  She watched in satisfaction as the barb hit home, as the placating, bored look on his face flickered with the beginnings of his anger.  This she knew.  This she craved and it pushed her onward, seeking more.  “That subjugates itself to these humans?”</p>
<p>The force of the blow sent her reeling and she landed hard against the unforgiving floor.  Pain blossomed where her head smacked into the marble and flared through her chest where his palm had struck her.  She couldn’t help but smile, a delighted laugh escaping her lips, at the feel of it.</p>
<p>“I warned you, Mazikeen,” he sneered, his voice deeper, rumbling with traces of his true nature.  When he came to loom over her, his eyes were ablaze with hellfire, “not to disrespect me.”</p>
<p>She lashed out when he reached for her, pulling one of her daggers and slashing at his chest.  The blade ran deep enough to slice through his shirt, but left the disgustingly perfect skin beneath unscathed.  The strength with which he latched onto her, one hand to the wrist wielding the knife and one to her throat, forced a choked wail from her lips.</p>
<p>He hauled her to her feet, rage and lust burning through both of them.  The hand on her neck shifted upward to roughly grab her chin, before pulling her to him.  The kiss was harsh and bruising, perfect save for who was performing it.  Maze pushed against him, but he wouldn’t relent.  Until, with her free hand, she brought the other dagger forward and pressed it against his throat, forcing him to relinquish the hold on her chin and to step back.  When their eyes met again, she did not allow him to see the perfect human, but rather his demon.</p>
<p>“Ek wil nie hê dat hierdie,” her eyes raked up and down his body, relaying the contempt she had for the creature in front of her, “walglike engel is nie. Ek wil my Koning hê.”</p>
<p>She watched in delectation as the alabaster burned away, leaving her with all his hideous beauty.  She dropped the knife from his neck, twisting it away so she could run her hand down the charred ruin of his exposed chest.  A growl rumbled from within him at the touch before he seized her again, backing her roughly into the bar, before hoisting her on top of it.  Taking his face in her hands, she kissed him brutally.  She bit and teased, claiming him as hers, while he divested her of her clothes.  The strength of his hands and the short but sharp claws that graced each finger, all but ripped them from her.</p>
<p>Those same clawed hands then dug into her hips, pulling her off the bar and pinning her between him and the edge.  He’d freed himself at some point and he gave her no warning before thrusting his full length into her.  There was nothing pleasurable about it, his fucking her.  It was all pain and anger and punishment.  It was exactly what she wanted.  And she came, several times over, the rage and frustration and fear waning with each orgasm, before he finally joined her in release.</p>
<p>He buried his head in her shoulder, as his breathing evened and he went limp inside her.  And she clung to him, allowing herself this moment to feel, to...treasure the being in her arms.  It only lasted a moment, and she knew it was over when she felt the tangled mess of marred flesh smoothe beneath her fingers.  She let him pull away from her, the distance allowing her to meet his now dark brown eyes.  She found uncertainty there, a conflict that spoke of the war he was raging with himself.  That uncertainty rebirthed the fear that she’d thought she’d expelled, allowing it to twist her gut anew.</p>
<p>He scoffed, then, breaking the eye contact that had connected them and schooling his features.  “I know what you want, Maze,” he told her, his tone cold and cruel.  “And I’m warning you, don’t try it again.”</p>
<p>Maze watched as he walked off, dismissing her, as if she was nothing, leaving her empty and alone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The "demonic" that Maze speaks is actually Afrikaans.  Here is the translation:</p>
<p>"I don't want this," her eyes raked up and down his body, relaying the contempt she had for the creature in front of her, "disgusting angel. I want my King. "</p>
<p>*~*</p>
<p>Thank you for reading!  Kudos and Comments are always appreciated.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. s01e04:  Manly Whatnots</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>My take on what happens immediately after:</p>
<p>1) Lucifer is shot by Chloe.</p>
<p>2) Lucifer informs Maze that Chloe shot him and he bled.</p>
<p>There is also a missing therapy scene where Lucifer discusses his wing scars.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Many thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlutteringPhalanges/pseuds/FlutteringPhalanges">FlutteringPhalanges</a> and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/venividivictorious/pseuds/venividivictorious">venividivictorious</a> for all the help and suggestions as my beta readers.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What’s happening to me?”  Lucifer asked, his tone beseeching.</p>
<p>Chloe shook her head, unsure of how to answer.  She looked away briefly, stealing a moment to blink away the unshed tears and stow away her selfish fears.  Fears concerning how majorly she just fucked her career.  God, how could she have been so stupid.  How could she have allowed herself to get swept up in his delusions?  Bullets did not bounce off people, and he was obviously a person.  If the hole in his thigh and the blood soaking his dark jeans were anything to go by, or the pain and confusion in his eyes...he was all too human.  Jesus, she couldn’t believe that she'd shot him.</p>
<p>Now, however, wasn’t the time for self-wallowing.  Now...now was the time for salvaging, and there was so much for her to salvage.  Wiping the tears angrily from her eyes, she turned back to Lucifer.  He was staring vacantly at the blood on his hand, his breaths shallow and far too rapid.  “Shit,” she mumbled under her breath, recognizing the signs of shock and immediately falling into action.</p>
<p>“Lucifer,” she said gently as she reached out and took his bloodied hand, pulling it to her chest.  She maneuvered around him, coming to sit beside his wounded thigh.  He tracked the motion briefly, before his eyes, wild and uncertain, locked onto hers.  “I need you to lie back.”  She emphasized her words by pushing gently with the hand holding his, coaxing him back, while the other went to the back of his neck for support.  His eyes widened and his grip tightened on her hand as he resisted.  “Lucifer,” she admonished lightly, as she continued to encourage him with her hands, “I think you’re going into shock, so I need you to lie back.”</p>
<p>He went this time, and Chloe nodded encouragingly to him as he descended.  “Ok.  Ok, good,” she told him once she had him lying flat.  “Now...just try to concentrate on your breathing.”  She looked away again, just long enough to confirm with a member of SWAT that paramedics were en route, before turning her attention back to Lucifer.  His gaze was...not vacant, but he was staring at the ceiling, eyes tracking back and forth, searching.  His breaths were still too shallow, but they had slowed some.  “Try to take deep controlled breaths,” she coached, “in through your nose and out through your mouth.”  She demonstrated twice, but her efforts garnered no response.</p>
<p>She looked down at the blood-stained hand still firmly clasped in hers, before sliding her gaze to the hole in Lucifer’s jeans.  It was centered one and a half, maybe two inches, from the outside of this thigh, farther in than the graze she’d been aiming for.  Transferring his hand into her other, she reached down and gently pulled at the fabric of his jeans, wanting to get a better look at the wound.  The response was both immediate and terrifying in its severity.</p>
<p>Chloe gasped when he sat up abruptly, his free hand locking around her wrist, the pressure causing her to wince and try to twist away.  “Do. Not. Touch. Me,” he commanded, his voice low and firm, almost guttural, and undeniably threatening.  His eyes burned with rage and authority.  She couldn’t suppress the shiver of fear that wracked up her spine.</p>
<p>“Ok,” she relented, holding her free hand up, palm out and non-threatening, internally cringing at the slight tremble in her voice.  He didn’t let go, didn’t even loosen his grip, just starred, his expression hard.  But she could see traces of fear hidden beneath the outrage.</p>
<p>“I do not need your assistance,” he proclaimed, his tone denying any argument.</p>
<p>“Ok,” she soothed, backing away as far as her pinned arm would allow.</p>
<p>The slight pull of her wrist within his hand brought him back.  He blinked, glanced to where he held her firm and immediately released her.  He gaped at her, mouth opening and closing, before finding his words.  “Sorry...I’m...I’m fine, Detective,” his tone was calm, reassuring, and she blinked at the complete one eighty.  “Truly,  Please...go,” he gestured weakly, “see to Carver.”  He attempted a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.</p>
<p>Chloe hesitated before nodding in agreement.  “Ok.  Just...I’ll...I’ll get a medic.”  She quickly got to her feet and all but fled across the room to where SWAT was ushering in the newly arrived EMTs.  While she was loath to admit it, she was shaken, completely unnerved by the...she didn’t even know what to call it.  It was more than just his reaction.  She’d witnessed people respond a myriad of ways to injury.  It was part of the job.  But this...this was different.  This was something...this was something she was starting to describe as completely Lucifer.  And for the time being, she was glad, all but relieved, to put some distance between them.  </p>
<p>“We’ve got two GSWs,” she informed the EMTs, all other worries cast aside as she forced herself to refocus on the case.  “One it looks like to the shoulder, there,” she said, pointing out Carver.  “And one to the leg…” she started, trailing off when she looked to where she’d left Lucifer, wounded and bleeding, alone on the floor.  Except, he wasn’t there.</p>
<p>“Where’d he...,” she muttered under her breath. “Hey!” she called, stopping a passing member of SWAT, “do you know where Lucifer is?”</p>
<p>“Who?”</p>
<p>“The other civilian?  Got shot in the leg.”</p>
<p>He shrugged, before offering a distracted “sorry.”</p>
<p>“Don’t worry,” the medic assured her, “will find him.”</p>
<p>Chloe nodded distractedly as she scanned the area, concern starting to eat at her when she didn’t spot his tall lean frame.  But she pushed it down, reminding herself that it was just a graze, that he’d seemed fine, and had assured her as much.  Except he’d been going into shock until...God, she was a mess.  She scrubbed forcefully at her eyes and then blew out a breath, while shaking out her hands.  He was fine.  If he could get up off the floor and disappear, then he was fine.  And if he wasn’t, the EMTs would find him.  That was their job.  She needed to do hers.  So, she made herself take another deep calming breath, burying the frustration at herself and the situation, and then forced herself back to work.</p>
<p>In truth, there wasn’t much left for her to do.  She oversaw Lindsay’s and Kevin’s arrest, reading them their Miranda Rights and helping to escort the pair out to the waiting patrol cars.  The former was possibly going to need a psych eval, and she wondered briefly if they were going to wind up with another Jimmy Barnes.  Forensics arrived and were starting to take over the scene, so she checked in with Carver to make sure he was stable.  He was awake and alert, emotionally broken, but most likely to make a full physical recovery.  Which left only one monumental loose end to tie up.</p>
<p>“He’s there,” one of the EMTs told her when she asked about Lucifer.  He pointed to one of the patrol cars, where sure enough the club owner was lounging, schmoozing with the Lieutenant.  “He’s refusing medical treatment.”</p>
<p>“Refusing…” Chloe shook her head, but not in disbelief.  Honestly, she wasn’t sure if it was any longer a possibility where the club owner was concerned.  “Thanks,” she muttered before moving in that direction.</p>
<p>She tried not to grimace as she approached, dreading what he was relating to her boss.  She would have liked to say it was simply fear over her job, and the consequences purposefully shooting an unarmed civilian was going to have on her career.  But she couldn’t deny that part of her apprehension stemmed from Lucifer himself.  Between whatever she saw, or thought she saw, reflected in that metal drum and the viciousness with which he’d stopped her from touching him, with everything that she had witnessed in the four cases she’d work with him...she was unsettled.  The small seed of doubt that had been planted when she would have swore Barnes had shot him, had grown solid roots.  Chloe forced yet another deep breath, pushed aside her concerns and forced herself to approach the pair.</p>
<p>The conversation that followed was...unexpected.  Lucifer’s casual omissions, which most likely saved her career, his aggravating flirtations, the Lieutenant’s predictable reactions, all pulled a begrudging smile to her lips along with a heartfelt thanks.  She felt...settled.  It was strange.  This new...normal?  Except that it was anything but.  Shaking her head, she playfully pushed at his arm and then immediately tensed.  Touch, she was learning, was not always welcomed and she feared a repeat of his earlier reactions.  But when he did nothing more than smile, she relaxed.</p>
<p>“Come on, I’ll drive you home.” she told him as she looped her arm in his.</p>
<p>“I should bloody hope so, now that you’ve crippled me.”</p>
<p>“Wuss,” she teased, as she helped him limp to her car.</p>
<p>*~*</p>
<p>“I apologize, Detective,” Lucifer said after several minutes of silent driving. He’d been staring contemplatively out the window and she’d been grateful for the silence. Despite the seemingly easy return to status quo at the crime scene, she still felt disconcerted. Where before she’d been leery, confused and disbelieving of what she’d seen, now...now she felt...well she wasn’t sure what she felt. But the first time since meeting him, she’d been frightened of him, and so soon after professing not to be.</p>
<p>“For,” he gestured awkwardly, drawing her attention back to the conversation at hand, “frightening you...earlier. Might’ve been a bit of an overreaction.”</p>
<p>Chloe snorted at that. Her mind immediately retorted with a sarcastic ‘you think?’</p>
<p>“It’s just I’ve never bled before. At least not from a mortal weapon.  Celestial blades and hell-forged of course, but nothing of mortal design should be able to do that.”</p>
<p>“Seriously?” She risked turning her attention from the road to glare at him incredulously. “I just shot you! You are probably bleeding all over the seat of my car and you’re still sticking with the devil story?”</p>
<p>“It’s not a story, Detective,” he insisted.  “I could offer you proof, but after seeing how a little display rattles you, I’m afraid I’d break your mind if I offered more. So you’ll just have to take my word...or not if you choose to remain obstinate. Besides,” he continued after a moment, “your believing the truth is hardly the most exciting part of all this.”</p>
<p>Chloe choked out a laugh. “There’s an exciting part to this?”</p>
<p>“Detective!  I’ve just explained that something that has literally never occurred in all of time has just happened. I mean the devil injured...no not just injured skin broken, by a human gun?”  She watched out of the corner of her eye as he shook his head, barely containing his excitement. “I admit at first I was a bit...taken aback. But now?”  He huffed excitedly. “First the bruises from Jimmy and now this?  I wonder what this vacation has in store for me next.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, well, I’m starting to wonder if I should have allowed you to refuse medical treatment. I think the blood loss is affecting your brain.”</p>
<p>*~*</p>
<p>“On the contrary, Maze, the fun has just begun.”</p>
<p>Maze looked at him, anger and disbelief, and fuck all if not a little fear, warring for control over her.  “This is not fun, Lucifer,” she asserted, snatching not just the tumbler, but also the bottle out his hand.  Ridding him of his distractions to force him to focus on her.  “Sex is fun.  Torture is fun. War is fun.  But this?” she gestured rudely at him, “This...I don’t even know what the fuck this is.  But it's not fun.”</p>
<p>Lucifer scoffed, that smug ridiculous smile on his face.  “Come on, Maze.  You said it yourself that this is dangerous, and since when is danger not fun?  Hmm?”  She fumbled for a response, but before she could deliver, he continued on.  “Besides, guess who gets to dig the bullet out of my leg?”</p>
<p>She glanced down at where she could see and smell the blood on his thigh, unable to stop the small smile that pulled at her lips.</p>
<p>“See,” he drawled, eyebrows dancing in amusement, “fun!  Now, grab that bottle and let’s get to it.”  He didn’t wait for a response, just started limping back towards the penthouse’s elevator.</p>
<p>Maze growled slightly as she poured herself a finger and tossed it back.</p>
<p>“Chop chop, Maze!” Lucifer called obnoxiously from the stairwell.  “I can already feel it trying to heal around the bullet and I don’t want you to have to cut me open with one of your blades.  Those bloody things scar.”</p>
<p>Maze growled again, before snatching up the bottle and strolling after him, steps purposefully slow and unrushed.</p>
<p>The ride up in the elevator was uneventful save for her pointedly throwing him dirty looks and him purposefully ignoring them.  When the doors chimed open, releasing them into the penthouse, Lucifer made straight for the bar.  “Go and grab your tools, Maze, and something for the sofa.  I don’t want to get blood stains on the Italian leather.”</p>
<p>Maze scowled as she stalked towards the stairwell, setting the tumbler and bottle she carried on the small table as she passed, before disappearing to the lower level.  She went quickly to her room to gather her roll of tools and thick rubber sheet.  It didn’t escape her that she was blindly following, accepting his orders without hesitation.  It was ingrained in her.  It was what she was meant to do, and the knowledge of it grated.  Hell was meant to have a ruler.  He was meant to be her King, and she was made to follow.  Yet while she was capable of resisting, the want to do so had never been so demanding, until now.</p>
<p>Retreating back upstairs, she found Lucifer still standing at the bar, working on the bottom half of a bottle of scotch.  “Lose the pants,” she ordered as she walked over to the sofa, tossing her tool roll onto the table and spreading the sheet over the yellow-stained leather.  A sharp hiss had her looking back to the Hell Lord.</p>
<p>“Nope,” he called, hands perched ridiculously on the waist of the jeans he’d only managed to lower to the tops of his thighs.  “I think you’re going to have to cut them off.  Bloody hell, who’d have thought bullet wounds could hurt so much.”</p>
<p>Maze just rolled her eyes as she crossed back to him.  Wordlessly, she whipped out a dagger and without preamble used it to cut through the outer seams of both pant legs.  Normally, she would have teased, traced the sharp edge of the blade across his chest and down his stomach, like a lover might kiss or lick.  But she wasn’t in the mood.  Even the scent of his blood wasn’t enough to draw heat to her loins.</p>
<p>She let the unattractive garment fall unceremoniously to the floor, took a cursory look at the wound, and then nodded to the couch.  “Lay down,” she ordered.  He raised an eyebrow at her, then turned and poured himself another glass.  She snorted at his childlike defiance, but otherwise ignored it in favor of returning to the couch to unroll her tools.</p>
<p>“Do I want to know why you have such a large rubber blanket?” he asked, light and teasing as he came to stand beside her.  It made her want to punch him in the face, maybe with one of her knives.</p>
<p>“Probably not,” she answered, her tone short and clipped, as she gestured once again towards the sofa with a long set of pliers.  “Now, lay down.”</p>
<p>He tossed back the rest of his drink, set it on the table with a sharp click, before finally giving in to her demands.  “Someone’s in a mood,” he groused, all but sulking as he wiggled to get comfortable.</p>
<p>“Yes, Lucifer,” Maze spat back, her rage and frustration boiling to the surface and causing her to drive the pliers into his thigh without preamble.  “I’m angry.”  She ignored his pain filled cry of alarm, simply pushing him back down with one hand while the other drove the tool deeper.  “How am I supposed to fulfill my duties when you are keeping me in the dark?”</p>
<p>He rose up against her hand, flames crackling beneath the surface of his skin and burning away the browns of his eyes, and shoved her back.  “I am not keeping anything from you, Makizeen,” he shouted.</p>
<p>Maze shook her head, before looking up at him from where she’d landed on the floor.  “Right,” she countered, unable to keep the incredulity out of her voice.  “Because you’ve no idea as to why you’re suddenly becoming mortal?”</p>
<p>“I don’t,” he assured her, his tone no less soft, but the Hell-fire had burned away.</p>
<p>Maze looked away, caught up in emotions she wasn’t supposed to have and didn’t understand.  “You know what?” she said, drawing herself up and forcing a bravado she didn’t quite feel.  “Fix your own damn leg.”  With that she stormed off, exhilarated and horrified at leaving her wounded King calling after her.</p>
<p>*~*</p>
<p>“I attempted to reclaim my power over Detective Decker yesterday,” Lucifer said quietly from where he laid gazing at her ceiling, lazily tracing his fingers up and down her arm, tickling the skin with just the right amount of pressure to make it pleasurable.</p>
<p>“How did that go?” Linda asked, her voice muffled by his shoulder and slightly slurred from post-cotial euphoria.</p>
<p>“If I’m being quite honest…” he hesitated, phrasing it as a question rather than a statement, so she “mmm” in response to probe him on.  “Horribly.”</p>
<p>Linda sat up slightly at that, propping herself up on her free elbow to get a better look at him.  “Why do you think that?”</p>
<p>Lucifer scoffed at the question, pulling his eyes off the ceiling to meet hers.  “Because her reaction to all this,” he said, gesturing from his chest down to where her purple sheets covered his hips and beyond, disbelief and frustration over the situation bleeding into his voice, “was completely wrong.”</p>
<p>“Wait, wait, wait,” Linda interrupted.  “Are you telling me that you presented yourself...your...naked...self...to Chloe?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” he replied curtly, before turning his gaze back to the ceiling, “and can you believe that it completely backfired.  I mean, don’t get me wrong, she did react.  Couldn’t help but catch a glimpse or two, blush turning her a wonderful shade of pink, before she threw the blanket at me.”</p>
<p>“Lucifer…” Linda started, but was unable to get any further as he plowed on.</p>
<p>“I mean I could understand, possibly accept, her resistance when the gift was Armani wrapped, but not when it was laid out to bare.”</p>
<p>“Lucifer…”</p>
<p>“And that wasn’t even the worst part.”</p>
<p>“It gets worse?”</p>
<p>“Oh yes,” he said, daring to look at her briefly before losing his nerve and turning back to the ceiling, clearly uncomfortable.  “She had the...well, she had the strangest...reaction to my...to my scars.”</p>
<p>“Your scars?” Linda asked before realization set in.  “The ones on your back?”</p>
<p>“Yes!” He barked in response, exasperated. “The ones on my bloody back. It’s not like I’ve any others.”</p>
<p>Linda pursed her lips, her constantly expanding intimate knowledge of his body telling her that it was true. That aside from the large twin set of marbled skin, he was otherwise...perfect. But...that was hardly the point. Shaking her head, she forced herself to focus on what was important. “What was her reaction?”</p>
<p>Lucifer frowned, eyes still locked on the ceiling, glaring at it as if it were to be held personally responsible. “She tried to touch them.”</p>
<p>Linda nodded, making sure to keep her tone calm and even as she asked her next question. “And this was different how?”</p>
<p>He met her eyes again, genuinely confused at the question. “What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“Well, given what I know about you and some of your favorite activities,” she couldn’t help the slight tease as she drummed her fingers purposefully against his bare chest, before slipping back to semi-professionalism, “this is not the first time someone has tried or even succeeded in touching them. So what was it about this occurrence that made it different?”</p>
<p>He was silent for a moment, before letting out a huff of irritation.  “Well, I don’t know why. That’s why I’m asking you.”</p>
<p>She didn’t react to the petulance, noting instead that he’d turned away from her again.  She took a deep breath, allowing him to do the same, before probing further. “What was your reaction to her attempt?  You said she ‘tried’ to touch them, implying that something or someone must have stopped her.”</p>
<p>“I,” he hesitated a moment before continuing, “no, I stopped her.”</p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>He turned disbelieving eyes on her, before spouting out, “because I didn’t want her bloody hands prodding about. Why else do you think?”</p>
<p>“You’re skirting the question,” she admonished while still managing to keep her tone kind.  “Obviously you stopped her because, for some reason, the thought of her touching them...of her touching you, unsettled you.  What you need to ask yourself is why was it unsettling?  What was it about that moment that made you uncomfortable?”</p>
<p>Lucifer scoffed at the ceiling, glared at her, turned away, and scoffed again. When it appeared no answer was forthcoming, he made a disgusted noise and then immediately withdrew from the sleeper sofa. </p>
<p>Linda, who had been forced to sit up with his abrupt exodus, watched as he started snatching up his clothes with what appeared to be anger, but which she was sure was more frustration. Frustration over whether he didn’t like or didn’t know the answer to her question, she wasn’t sure.</p>
<p>“Lucifer,” she implored, “I really think you should stay.”</p>
<p>He scoffed yet again, pausing in his dressing only to give her a scathing look.  “What’s it matter to you?” He gestured to where she sat naked on the bed. “You’ve already been paid.”</p>
<p>Linda flinched at the comment, the truth of his words and the immorality they carried with them hitting her hard. Lucifer must have noticed her reaction if the cruel chuckle that followed the criticism was any indication.</p>
<p>“That’s what I thought.”</p>
<p>Linda allowed herself a moment to close her eyes and take another deep calming breath, stealing herself away from his insults. “I don’t believe it’s me or our arrangement that you’re angry with,” she countered. </p>
<p>“No?” He asked his tone sharp and biting.</p>
<p>“No.  I believe you’re displacing your frustration with Chloe onto me.”</p>
<p>“I have no reason to be angry with the Detective,” he spat defensively.</p>
<p>“I didn’t say you were angry with her,” Linda clarified, “but this...incident with Chloe has clearly upset you, and I believe it would be remiss to not explore why.”</p>
<p>“Yes, well I’m afraid this will have to be a solo expedition,” he said mockingly, as he picked up his jacket and stormed towards the door, “Because quite frankly, I’m done here.”</p>
<p>“Lucifer,” Linda implored in vain, her voice nearly drowned out by the slamming of her door.  “Shit!” she admonished quietly as she allowed herself to flop back onto the sofa bed.  “Well done, Dr. Martin.  Well done.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!  Kudos and Comments are always appreciated.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. s01e05:  Sweet Kicks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Two missing scenes:</p>
<p>1) Where Dan convinces Paolucci not to sue Lucifer for punching him in the face.</p>
<p>2) Where Lucifer tells Trixie that she must take what she truly desires.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Many thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlutteringPhalanges/pseuds/FlutteringPhalanges">FlutteringPhalanges</a> and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/venividivictorious/pseuds/venividivictorious">venividivictorious</a> for all the help and suggestions as my beta readers.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dan couldn’t help but wince at the swollen nose and the currently red, but soon to be black, eyes of Anthony Paolucci as he slid into the booth opposite him. “Jesus,” he muttered, schooling his look to one of sympathy. “That looks like it fucking hurts.”</p>
<p>Tony huffed in response, before taking a long drink from his beer. “Who the fuck is this guy anyway?” He asked, tone accusing. “And what’s your bitch wife doing bringing him around?”</p>
<p>“Don’t fucking start on Chloe.” Dan shot back hotly, unable to stop himself from immediately jumping to her defense. “She’s just doing her job.”</p>
<p>“Since when is getting cops shot and dragging dickheads like that to our bar part of the job?”</p>
<p>“Ok, first off, she didn’t get Malcolm shot.” Dan pointedly ignored Tony’s scoff of disbelief at that statement as he continued on.  “Malcolm got Malcolm shot.  And secondly, Morningstar wasn’t her choice.  The Lieutenant is forcing her to work with him.”</p>
<p>Tony did a double take at that, brows furrowed in confusion.  “What’s Monroe’s hangup?  She fucking him?”</p>
<p>“Jesus, Tony,” Dan shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the new direction of the conversation.  “I don’t know.  I’m not going to speculate about the Lieutenant's sex life.  But what I do know is that it means Morningstar’s off limits...at least for now.”</p>
<p>Anthony laughed into his glass before taking another long swig.  “You trying to tell me I can’t sue the guy because he’s fucking Monroe, as if I really give a shit what that kowtowing bitch thinks.”</p>
<p>“No,” Dan said seriously, “I am telling you that you can’t sue him because you’ll lose.”  At Tony’s incredulous look, he continued his argument.  “Look, you’re right, whatever the hell he’s doing with the Lieutenant doesn’t matter.  The guy is rich, and he’s got more money in more pockets than you can fathom.  Plus…” he forced himself to take a deep breath and unclench his jaw, “he seems to be fixated on Chloe.  You retaliate on him, in any capacity, and I guarantee you, it's going to tie back to Chloe.  And that...that’s going to shed even more unwanted light on Palmetto.”</p>
<p>Tony smiled knowingly, as he looked down his swollen nose at Dan.  “My hands are clean where Palmetto’s concerned.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Dan countered against the unspoken threat, “but we both know that it doesn’t start and end with Palmetto.  The kind of money he has, and the power that goes with it?  That’s going to shed light on things you’d probably prefer to stay hidden.  And if you even think of causing me trouble, causing Chloe trouble, I won’t hesitate to drag you and Malcolm down with me.”</p>
<p>Tony sat back and crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing him critically, before huffing out a breath and shaking his head.  “I want your bitch wife to drop her investigation against Malcolm.”</p>
<p>Dan nodded.  It was a reasonable request, one that he’d already been slowly chipping away at.  “I’ve almost got her convinced.”</p>
<p>“Almost isn’t good enough.”</p>
<p>“If I push too hard, she’s just going to grow suspicious.  Trust me,” Dan assured him.  “I won’t let her find anything important.”</p>
<p>*~*</p>
<p>Lucifer folded himself neatly into the passenger seat of the Detective's cruiser, mind already brimming at the possibilities for danger at their meeting with Yellow Viper. Until the Detective effectively burst his bubble.</p>
<p>“I need to run a few quick errands while we’re waiting for confirmation on Viper’s location,” she informed him as she started the car and pulled out onto the street.</p>
<p>Lucifer tutted at her in exasperation. “Come now, Detective, more errands?  Honestly, I’d have thought you’d spend more of your workday, you know,” he gestured vaguely as he searched for words, before settling on the less eloquent but entirely accurate, “actually working.”</p>
<p>She huffed out a frustrated laugh as she rolled her eyes at him.  “Hey!  You’re the one who wanted this glorified ride along, so just...sit there, be quiet, and...ride along.”  She paused a moment before continuing on more pointedly, her tone a mixture of seriousness and teasing.  Though, if he were honest, probably a little more on the serious side of things.  “Besides, you didn’t seem to have any problems filling yesterday’s down time with a booze break.”</p>
<p>“Yes, but the ‘booze break’ was so much more.  It was a right of passage, an opportunity to bond with my new partner.”</p>
<p>“We’re not partners,” she interrupted, going so far as to risk taking her eyes off the road to level him a look.</p>
<p>“I dare say that someone protests too much,” he shot back, unable to keep the grin off his face at her irritated snort.  “But,” he added somewhat begrudgingly, “if it’s proof of my dedication to this endeavor that you require then I’ll relent.  So, tell me, what mundane chores are you going to drag me through this time?”</p>
<p>The Detective did a double take, mouth opening and closing like an adorable gaping fish, at the unexpected gesture.  The sight pulled a smile to his lips.  “Well,” she stuttered, “I need to stop at the bakery to order a cake and then I need to pick Trixie up from school.”</p>
<p>Lucifer scoffed in annoyance.  Not that he minded the bakery.  He was more than happy to indulge his sweet tooth and there was definitely something to be said about fresh baked bread.  But the child?  “Really” he asked, unable to curb his incredulity, “the Urchin?</p>
<p>“You see,” she said with something that sounded uncomfortably close to true anger in her voice.  “that is not something a real partner would ask.  Because a real partner would know that his partner’s kids are important to her.”</p>
<p>“Yes, but…” he floundered, desperate to find a way to salvage the conversation and still avoid having to endure the child.  Essentially coming up empty, he asked weakly, “Doesn’t the school provide transportation to get her to and from?”</p>
<p>The Detective let out a long suffering sigh.  “Yes,” she replied, her tone much softer, apparently subdued by his inane question, though he didn’t fully understand why.  “But if I’m close to the school, which we kinda are, and I have time, which we definitely do, I prefer to pick Trixie up. The car ride gives us bonding time.”</p>
<p>Lucifer barely managed to swallow a grunt of disgust.  Being stuck in such a confined space with the undeniably messy miniature human was hardly ideal.  But he’d agreed and he wasn’t about to go back on his word.  “Fine,” he conceded a second time, though he made no effort to hide his displeasure, “we’ll run your errands.  But don’t be surprised if I die of boredom.  And keep your sticky offspring off of me this time.”</p>
<p>“Hey!” she exclaimed through what looked like a genuine smile.  “Trixie is not sticky!”</p>
<p>“All children are sticky,” he corrected, barely supressing a shiver at the thought of small grabby hands pawing at him.  “It's like it's written in their DNA or something, and your spawn in particular is a bloody leech.”</p>
<p>He watched as she rolled her eyes, before glancing briefly over at him.  “What is your deal with kids anyway?”</p>
<p>Lucifer scoffed at her, as he leaned back in his seat and brushed nonexistent wrinkles from his trousers.  “I told you, they’re a bloody inconvenience.  Always getting in the way, demanding your attention, clawing at you with filthy little paws.  I truly don’t see what the appeal is.”</p>
<p>“You know, normally, I wouldn’t buy that.  But seeing as how you’re probably one the most egotistical people I’ve ever met, I can see how you might think that.”</p>
<p>“You find me egotistical?” Lucifer asked, trying for teasing, but not sure if he’d quite managed.  He was affronted at how much the simple comment had stung.  He’d been called far worse after all, and it wasn’t as if it was a completely false comparison, so the small ache in his chest was surprising.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” the Detective drawled, as she glanced over at him, whatever she saw seemingly confirming her conclusion, “definitely.”</p>
<p>“I’ll have you know,” he defended, “that I can be quite charitable...when the mood strikes.”</p>
<p>“Granting favors with an unquantifiable IOU is not charitable.”</p>
<p>“But what if I never collect?” he challenged.  “I’ve been granting favors since Adam and Lilith.  That’s literally tens of millions of favors and I’ve come nowhere near close to cashing them all in.  Surely the fact that I grant these favors without truly planning to recoup could be contrived as charitable.”</p>
<p>“Nope,” the Detective quipped without hesitation causing Lucifer to scoff.  “And don’t you mean Adam and Eve.”</p>
<p>“Now you're just being contumacious,” he sulked, “and no,” he added, as if proving his knowledge of his Father’s first creations would somehow turn the argument in his favor, “Lilith was his first wife.  Eve came after.”</p>
<p>“I...did not know that,” she admitted.</p>
<p>Lucifer huffed out a sharp laugh. “Not many do,” he acknowledged.  “She didn’t quite fit Dad’s picture-perfect view of the first female, so, unsurprisingly, she was cast out.  Seems to be his method of dealing with disappointments,” he added, unable to keep the bitterness from coating his words.</p>
<p>They lapsed into uncomfortable silence at the turn in conversation, which he bolstered by shifting his attention to the window.  Thankfully, or not considering, it wasn’t long before what he could only assume was the school came into view and they were parking in a long line of parental vehicles.  Lucifer clamored out of the car, happy to escape its stuffy confines, leaned against the passenger door, and pulled out his cigarette case.</p>
<p>“You can’t smoke on campus,” the Detective scolded lightly as she circled around the vehicle to join him.</p>
<p>His response was to light the fag and take a long deep pull, savoring the taste of nicotine and smoke, before slowly exhaling.  He caught her shaking her head at him to which he couldn’t help but smirk, just catching the tail end of her eye roll as he glanced over.  Silence once again stretched between them as they waited, but unlike before, it wasn’t disagreeable.  He’d nearly finished the cig when an overeager Trixie bounded out of the building and raced over to them.</p>
<p>“Lucifer!” the child all but shouted, causing him to wince as the high octave scream pierced his eardrums.  “You’re here!”</p>
<p>“Dahaha!” he replied ineloquently, quickly reaching out a long arm and planting it on her forehead, effectively halting her assault and saving his Prada.  “Hands to yourself please.”</p>
<p>“Hey?” the Detective broke in with mock hurt, pulling the child’s attention off of him, “what about me?”</p>
<p>The small one beamed up at her mother, before enveloping her in a crushing hug.  “Hi, Mommy!”</p>
<p>“Hey, Monkey,” the Detective answered, practically glowing as she returned her daughter’s embrace.  They remained that way for what seemed an unnecessary length of time, during which he was left to stand awkwardly, before finally breaking apart.  “Come on,” she encouraged, as she opened the back door, “we’ve got to get going.”</p>
<p>Once they were all situated back in the vehicle, and the Detective had made a check for seatbelts and pulled the car out into traffic, the Offspring turned her attention back to him.  “Are you all better now, Lucifer?”</p>
<p>“All better?” he asked, genuinely confused.</p>
<p>“From when Mommy shot you?”</p>
<p>“Oh!” he couldn’t help but shoot a wicked grin at the Detective, basking in her look of complete  mortification.  “Told you about that, did she?” he asked the child with a chuckle.</p>
<p>“No.  I saw your blood on her shirt.”</p>
<p>“Exposing your child to the macabre?”  He accused playfully, delighted at the lovely red hue of her blush and how she appeared to want to slink into the steering wheel.</p>
<p>“She ambushed me when I got home,” was the Detective’s weak defense, “I hadn’t had time to change.”</p>
<p>Lucifer tsked at her teasingly, before addressing the child.  “Yes, Spawn,” he said through a smile, “all healed up.”</p>
<p> “You got better much faster than Mommy did when she was shot.”  The Offspring observed, pausing briefly before asking cheerily, “Is that because you’re the Devil?”</p>
<p>Lucifer could feel his face practically light up as he beamed a smug smile at the Detective.  “Why yes,” he crowed, “yes it is.”</p>
<p>“No!” the Detective interjected sternly, shooting him a glare that had him settling back down in his seat like a reprimanded school boy, but did little to erase the smile from his face.  “It’s because Mommy was really shot and Lucifer was only grazed,” she explained calmly, though he didn’t miss the emphasis on the word ‘graze’ nor the pointed look she shot him when saying it.  </p>
<p>“Anyways,” she practically sing-songed, “why don’t you tell us how  your day was?” She asked the child, effectively changing the subject.</p>
<p>Lucifer all but tuned out the ensuing prattle of banal facts about the child's day, as he volleyed between staring out the window and watching the Detective, content to let them have their ‘bonding time.’  In truth, he found the exchange somewhat endearing, this unconcealed display of affection between mother and daughter.  It also didn’t hurt that the Detective practically glowed with maternal happiness.  The ache that threatened to rip his chest open; however, was not something he wanted to think about.  Luckly, he wasn’t made to dwell on it, as they were soon parking once again, only this time it was in a small strip mall.</p>
<p>“Alright, Monkey,” the Detective announced, as she unbuckled her seatbelt, “I need to make a quick stop, so I want you to stay in the car a few minutes with Lucifer.  Lucifer,” she asked, her tone somehow both stern and tentative at the same time, “would you mind?”</p>
<p>“What?” he bristled, certain he must have misheard, because he was sure that he’d made his position concerning the Urchin quite clear.  The easy amiableness they’d shared earlier all but forgotten at the prospect of being alone with the child.  “You wish to leave me in the car with the screeching harpy?”</p>
<p>“I’ll just be a few minutes.”</p>
<p>The look she gave him was outright pleading and he implausibly found himself caving once again.  “Fine,” he huffed out, before risking a look in the backseat.  “Just...make it snappy, yeah?  Chop chop and all.”</p>
<p>The smile and the breathy ‘thanks’ she gave him was almost enough to quell the discomfort that had suddenly taken up residence in his gut.  That was until she rushed out of the car and he found himself alone with the small human sans buffer.</p>
<p>“My birthday’s next Tuesday,” the Spawn jabbered almost immediately from the backseat, so much so that the Detective’s door had barely closed.  “But we’re having my party this weekend.”</p>
<p>“Marvelous,” Lucifer replied distractedly, as he tracked the Detective’s movement into the small bakery.  The car suddenly felt overly small and he found himself shifting uncomfortably.</p>
<p>“Want to come?”</p>
<p>Lucifer blinked, taken aback by the sprightly question.  “I…” His name was easily found on the guest list for almost every major event in the city, and yet this invite, to a seven-year-old’s birthday party, somehow had him floundering.  Perhaps it was the prospect of further exploring the Detective’s domestic bliss, an undertaking that both thrilled and terrified him.  “I…” he cleared his throat at his own ridiculousness, reassuming his mask of haughty indifference.  “Am I correct in assuming that there will be other small humans at this affair?”</p>
<p>“Duh!  It's a kids party.”</p>
<p>“As I imagined,” he replied, “then while I deeply appreciate the invitation, I must decline.  But by all means,” he continued loftily, “congratulations on completing another trip around the sun.”</p>
<p>“Trip around the sun?  What does that mean?”</p>
<p>“What does that…?  Honestly?” he asked, turning in his seat so he could look her full on, his disbelief burning away his awkwardness.  “You’ve been attending school for how long?  And you don’t know what a year is?”</p>
<p>“I know what a year is!” the Offspring chirped back, apparently not in the least offended by his subtle insult to her intelligence.  “It’s 365 days.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” he replied with exasperation, “but 365 days is how long it takes for the Earth to revolve around the Sun.  It's how you humans define a year.  So, if you’ve lived a year, then you’ve ridden the Earth one complete revolution.”  At her confused look, he let out a put upon sigh, and turned back to the front.  “Just...nevermind.”</p>
<p>“I asked Mommy and Daddy for a telescope,” she continued, obvious, “even though I really wanted an Anki Cozmo Robot.”</p>
<p>That comment had Lucifer turning back again, truly baffled.  “Why ever did you not ask for what you truly desired?”</p>
<p>The Offspring shrugged and gave him a sheepish look.  “Anki Cozmo is expensive and I’d need a new ipad for it.”</p>
<p>Lucifer scoffed, unable to believe the yarn the child was spewing.  “Beatrice,” he interrupted, his intensity rendering her momentarily speechless and slightly slack jawed.  “Do you truly desire this Anki Cozmo?”  At her silent nod, he continued.  “Then you must ask for it.  Your life is far too short to weigh yourself down with trivial minutiae such as cost.  If you really want something, truly desire it with all your heart, then you must take it.”</p>
<p>He paused for a moment, but when she made no reply, made no acknowledgment that she’d comprehended the importance of what he’d told her, he asked, “Do you understand?”  She nodded mutely again, still caught up in his thrall.  “Good,” he affirmed, before turning back to face forward.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!  Kudos and Comments are always appreciated.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. s01e05:  Sweet Kicks (Part 2)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>My take on what happens immediately before and after Maze almost kills Chloe.  The second of which bleeds into a missing scene between Maze and Amenadiel.</p>
<p>Lastly, a missing therapy scene, where Linda &amp; Lucifer further discuss Lucifer's reaction to Chloe seeing his scars.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Many thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlutteringPhalanges/pseuds/FlutteringPhalanges">FlutteringPhalanges</a> and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/venividivictorious/pseuds/venividivictorious">venividivictorious</a> for all the help and suggestions as my beta readers.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Maze cranked the throttle on her R1, twisting the lever until it bottomed out, as she peeled through another red light, expertly weaving in and out of the blaring traffic. Screaming horns and screeching brakes blended with the whine of her bike’s engine, created the soundtrack to her mission. She’d sworn, she’d sworn to Lucifer that she would protect him from all dangers, even the ones he didn’t see coming. Especially the ones he didn’t see coming, and the blonde bitch was the biggest and most pressing of these.</p>
<p>She grinned at the rush of adrenaline pumping through her veins, at the thrill of the hunt, both encouraging her to force the R1 dangerously faster. It didn’t matter that Decker was easy prey. It didn’t matter that the human was weak and pathetic. All that mattered was that she was a threat. One that Maze couldn’t wait to eliminate, couldn’t wait to see the blood on her knife and feel it running down her hands, warm and tacky. She could practically smell its metallic sweetness now, luring her with its intoxicating stench.</p>
<p>Her eagerness and a lack of traffic had her clearing the city proper shortly, and she soon found herself winding the more open roads that lead out to the beach communities.  She didn’t stop when her GPS brought her to her target’s house.  Instead she drove past, at only a slightly slower pace, to both reduce the noise level and to allow herself a chance to survey the area.  Out here, the houses were still only moderately sized, but the upper-middle class occupants could afford a little more property, which meant a greater probability of her getting in undetected.</p>
<p>Maze finally pulled off into a public beach-access lot about a mile away from Decker’s house, planning to make her approach on foot.  She kicked off her boots and strolled lazily up the beach, close enough to the water that the waves licked across her bare feet.  The change in pace was infuriating, but necessary to avoid suspicion from the late night partiers littering the sand.  Still, despite the forced meandering, it didn’t take long until she was back within the vicinity of her target’s house.</p>
<p>Stashing her boots in a shrub near the beach edge, she slipped through the shadows and up to the house.  The front door was locked, but at least two windows were open despite the chill, their curtains dancing in the breeze drifting up from the waterfront.  She peered through one, careful to avoid overly exposing herself, though she doubted it necessary given how dark it was inside.  With no clear signs of activity, Maze carefully lifted herself up and in, her movements lith and sleek, cat-like.  She’d entered what looked to be the living room, with a couch and TV directly in front of her.  Beyond that, in the far corner, across from a small fireplace, visible by the glow of the flame and the light spilling in from the dusk-to-dawn outside, sat a sofa-chair, with Decker tucked within it.  She was asleep, curled up with a book and a glass of wine, in a position that others might find endearing.  Maze found it nauseating.</p>
<p>Pushing down the bile that threatened to rise up and expose her, Maze stalked across the room, slowly and steadily pulling her knives from their sheaths.  She stopped a few steps away to marvel at how easy it was all going to be.  One quick thrust to the chest.  The hell-forged blades would move through the delicate human flesh like butter.  Spilling the lifeblood and severing the soul from the mortal flesh, sending it to fester in Heaven or to torment in Hell.  She hoped it would be the later, because with this gesture, with this obsession ended, her King should want to return home, and she could delight in torturing the bitch for the rest of eternity.  The thought pulled a small, pleased smile to her lips and she growled slightly as her glamor slipped, exposing the demon, as she moved in.  With her luck; however, the bitch’s soul would most likely go to Heaven.  She was too good, too pure, too...innocent for the bowels of Hell.</p>
<p>Maze stopped, smile wiped from her face and blades forgotten by her side as the thought wormed its way into her mind.  Innocent.  There were many acts that Lucifer would permit, some he would even enjoy partaking in, by there was one hard line he refused to be crossed.  The torturing and/or punishment of innocents.  Possession banned, thousands of demons ripped to shreds, for violating this one rule.  Maze looked down at the sleeping figure in front of her, lip curled in disgust.  She brought one knife up quickly in an aborted strike, convincing herself for a brief second that he wouldn’t know.  That she could pass it off as a random home invasion or a convict with a grudge.  But she knew that was a fantasy.  He’d know. Somehow, he’d know, and the penalty for this indiscretion would be unforgivable.  Clenching her knives in anger and frustration, Maze grimaced before turning from the bitch, sheathing her weapons, and storming silently from the house.</p>
<p>*~*</p>
<p>Maze didn’t bother to knock. She simply barged in. Her mood leaving her no regard for the house or its occupant. Not that she’d have any respect for the feathery dick anyway. He was simply a means to her ends. If means were meant to be frustratingly incompetent.</p>
<p>She found him asleep, fully clothed and laying atop the sheets in the master bedroom, predictable given the hour and his prudishness. It made her wonder if he knew what acts his brother and her had committed in that very bed, in those very sheets. She couldn’t help but smile at the memories and the imagined look of horror on his face. She briefly considered filling him in on the details, but there were more pressing matters to attend to. So as much as she’d love to toy with celestial prick, it would have to wait. </p>
<p>Pulling her knives, she kicked the door closed behind her, allowing a satisfied smile to spread across her lips as the angel startled awake. “I could have killed you twenty times over already,” she told him as she spun a blade in her hand, her tone smug and self-assured.</p>
<p>“Hello, Mazikeen,” Amenadiel drawled as he stood up from the bed and turned to face her fully, arms crossed and his chest puffed out.  “To what do I owe the pleasure?”</p>
<p>Maze scoffed at the posturing, before walking over and dropping onto the bed.  “Where are you with the therapist?” She asked as she leaned back against the headboard, her skull making a dull thud at the contact, and crossed her ankles.</p>
<p>Amenadiel frowned, deflating slightly at the question.  “Not as far as I’d like,” he admitted, before straightening.  “But these things...manipulating humans, earning their trust, it takes time.”</p>
<p>Maze found herself scoffing again as she rolled her eyes.  “Please,” she retorted, “Lucifer would have, no, he did have her eating out of the palm of his hand and spilling confidential secrets in less than five minutes.”</p>
<p>“Father blessed all with different gifts...” he said with a grimace as if it pained him to admit his inferiority.</p>
<p>“Obviously.”</p>
<p>“...but I assure you, I’ll succeed.”</p>
<p> “When?” she demanded, “After Hell has ripped itself apart, releasing damned souls and demons alike onto Creation?  He needs to go back now.”</p>
<p>“Do not pretend to care about Creation or the souls of mankind,” he spat back.  “Your want for him to return, and consequently your motivation for helping me, is purely self-serving.”  His eyes raked over her, disgust clearly written on his face.  “I doubt you’re even capable of truly fostering care for him.”</p>
<p>She swung herself up off the bed, closed the distance between them in four short strides, and pressed herself into his space.  “You doubt my loyalty?” she asked, rage that had been simmering beneath the surface now threatening to boil over.  “I would do anything for him!”</p>
<p>Amenadiel looked down his nose at her, his expression cold and cruel.  “That is because you know nothing else, little demon.”</p>
<p>Maze opened her mouth, but her tongue felt thick and heavy, and the denial stuck in her throat.  He was wrong, she cared for Lucifer, had taken a vow to serve him, to protect him.  What else did that prove, if not that she cared?  But his words struck a nerve, planted a seed of doubt where none had existed before.  Angry and uncertain, she pushed away from him and stalked across the room.</p>
<p>“It doesn’t change the fact that the therapist is taking too long.” she asserted, trying to win back control of the conversation.</p>
<p>“Then give me something else to work with,” he implored, dropping his arms and gesturing towards her, his posture subdued and welcoming.</p>
<p>Manipulative, she couldn’t help but think.  Not that it mattered.  He didn’t need to manipulate her.  She came here willing and eager to betray, and she shuddered as that thought sank deep, allowing the small seed to take root.  “He craves his wings,” she admitted somewhat reluctantly, but after a deep breath, the words seemed to flow more freely.  “Jones for them even, like an addict.  Pathetic really.  But he wants to forget that he’s an angel.  Wanted to cut the last tie between him and Daddy.  So he had me store them, hide them away where he wouldn’t know where to look.”</p>
<p>Amenadiel frowned, confusion written clearly on his face.  “While this is all very enlightening, Maze, I fail to see how it will get him back to Hell?”</p>
<p>“Because, I think he wants to go back.”  She shook her head, both surprised by yet certain of her words.  “He keeps leaving himself outs...the coin, his wings removed but not destroyed.  His ego won’t allow you to take him, but he could go back on his own.  So maybe...”  she hesitated, doubtful of the plan, but driven by a desperation that threatened to fill her with shame, “maybe if we help him to reclaim his wings and the power that goes with them, the throne that goes with them, he might choose to return.”</p>
<p>The smile that slid across Amenadiel’s face was knowing and unpleasant.  “Tell me where they are.”</p>
<p>*~*</p>
<p>“I received an invitation to a child’s birthday party,” Lucifer announced as he all but burst into her office, causing her to startle at the sudden intrusion.</p>
<p>Linda stuttered, struggling a moment to get control of herself, before taking a calming breath.  It was something she found herself doing frequently with this patient.  “Lucifer,” she greeted with a tight but not entirely unpleasant smile, as she checked the clock on her computer, “you’re a little early.”</p>
<p>“I am,” he confirmed as he took a seat on the couch and proceeded to make himself comfortable, “but the little red light was out, so I knew I wasn’t interrupting.  Thought we could, you know, get an early start and all that.”</p>
<p>Linda sighed as she started tucking away the notes she was working on, deciding she would chastise him for the interruption later.  “Do you have something pressing on your mind?” she asked, while grabbing her pen and notepad.</p>
<p>“Pretty sure, I’ve just told you,” he replied, shaking his head slightly and letting out a little huff of exasperation.  “Child?  Birthday party?”</p>
<p>“Right,” she acknowledged, giving him a small self-deprecating smile, as she sat in her chair, “I apologize.  It's just that...children’s birthday parties are not usually something to get...worked up about.  But, please, tell me, whose party is it?”</p>
<p>“‘Worked up’ seems a little strong,” he gripped, to which she simply raised an eyebrow.  He stared at her for a moment, attempting to goad her with silence.  Undeterred, she waited him out, until eventually he let out a long suffering sigh.  He probably meant it as a display of irritation towards her, but it was more likely frustration towards his feelings over the situation he’d found himself in.  “Beatrice,” he relented, “the Detective’s spawn.  And it's just not right.  I mean the devil, at a,” he gestured absently, “child’s party?  Bloody ridiculous.”</p>
<p>“Do you spend much time with Detective Decker’s daughter?”</p>
<p>Lucifer scoffed.  “I make it a point to spend as little time as possible with any offspring.  Thank you.  Or no thank you, as the case may be.”</p>
<p>“You’re uncomfortable around children,” she stated rather than asked.</p>
<p>“You humans are turning me into a bloody broken record,” he groused with annoyance.  “It's not discomfort.  I simply don’t wish to be pawed at by some grubby handed, attention seeking leech.”</p>
<p>Linda pressed her lips into a tight smile as she considered his words.  “More often than not, when we have a strong aversion to something, it stems from deeper personal issues.”</p>
<p>“Yes!  I personally take issue with grease stains on my Prada.”</p>
<p>“But that is a superficial concern,” she pressed gently.  “One that could easily be fixed by not wearing a $5,000 dollar suit to the party.”  She paused momentarily, giving him time to digest her words and her time to decide on how to proceed.  “Is it possible,” she asked, “that your disquiet around children is related to your reaction to the Detective seeing your scars?”</p>
<p>“How on Earth,” he asked, tone literally dripping with incredulousness, “did you possibly make that connection?”</p>
<p>“Because,” she started, trying to keep her tone calm and even, in an attempt to prevent him from fleeing, “I believe, that the deeper issue that you’re struggling with is intimacy.”</p>
<p>Lucifer barked out a laugh.  “You of all people, Doctor, should know that I have no issues with intimacy.”</p>
<p>“No. You have no issues with sex and sexual desire.  But being intimate with someone and having sex with them are two very different things.”</p>
<p>He scoffed before looking away briefly, disbelief prominent on his face but there were also traces of consideration hidden beneath.  When he turned back, he gestured irritatedly for her to continue.  Linda smiled, pleased that he was at least willing to hear her out this time, and the small progress that implied.</p>
<p>“Since we started our work together, we have discussed very few personal relationships.  Your father, whom we’ve discussed very briefly and never positively; and Maze, whom you place in a subservient role.  On the other hand, you talk openly of ‘favors’ and ‘deals’ and the people who partake in them; you expound upon your sexual exploits and multiple partners.  But those relationships aren’t personal.  They’re...business transactions and casual encounters.</p>
<p>“The Detective...Chloe, however, and now by extension, Beatrice...they do not fit into any of the molds of your past relationships.  They aren’t family, willing to shun you for past deeds.  They aren’t seeking favors or other gains.  And the Detective, despite your best efforts, won’t have sex with you.  Yet, you still desire their company and they yours.  It is, quite possibly, the beginnings of a new type of relationship.  One without strings attached.  One that is...intimate.”</p>
<p>“And you think what?” he asked with a huff of annoyance, “that I fear intimacy?  Huh?  Is that it?”  He shifted on the couch anxiously.  “I am the literal devil,” he stated loudly, as if she were stupid, as if she didn’t remember that that was how he viewed himself.  “What could I possibly have to fear from some...benign human emotion? Ridiculous.”</p>
<p>“Because it exposes you,” she replied calmly. “It opens you up to the possibility of emotional pain, which can be so much worse than physical, and, from what I’m learning, is something that is all too familiar to you.”</p>
<p>“So you would have me do what?  Embrace my fears?” he asked mockingly, though she could still sense sincerity beneath the insults.  “Subject myself to the torments of a house full of screeching seven year olds?  Poor my heart out to the Detective, while having a good cry on her shoulder?”</p>
<p>“How you choose to proceed is up to you,” she answered earnestly.  “Just...know that intimacy does not have to be a weakness, doesn’t have to be feared.  Yes, it can be used as a weapon against you,” she admitted, “but that’s true of anything.  And with the right person, it can be truly wonderful, even for the Devil.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!  Kudos and Comments are always appreciated.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Interlude #1:  Not One Hell of a Party</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This Interlude, which takes place between Sweet Kicks and Favorite Son, shows some of the events of Trixie's 8th birthday party.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I struggled immensely with this chapter.  It definitely did not come easily, and consequently was almost abandoned multiple times.  Hopefully you enjoy.</p><p>Many thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlutteringPhalanges/pseuds/FlutteringPhalanges">FlutteringPhalanges</a> and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/venividivictorious/pseuds/venividivictorious">venividivictorious</a> for all the help and suggestions as my beta readers.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What the fu...hell’s he doing here?” Dan demanded as he took the plates of hotdogs and hamburgers from her hands. </p><p>Chloe followed his gaze and found Lucifer standing just inside the front door. He was holding a large brightly wrapped box and a Tupperware container and was looking...awkward?  She smiled as she watched him shift his weight and fidget slightly with his packages. Definitely awkward.  It was a different look for him, one she couldn’t help but feel a little smug about eliciting.</p><p>She shrugged when she finally turned back to Dan, the look on her face hinged between embarrassed and apologetic. “He’s my partner now,” she pointed out.  That alone should have been enough justification, but she added, “and Trixie wanted him to come.”</p><p>“I thought we’d agreed to keep him away from our daughter.”</p><p>“No, we didn’t agree to anything,” she argued, unable to stop the defensiveness from creeping into her tone. “You stated that you didn’t want him around Trixie, but you don’t get to make unilateral decisions about our daughter, Dan.”</p><p>“And you inviting him here wasn’t a unilateral decision?” he shot back.</p><p>Chloe grimaced, unable to deny the truth behind his words.  “You’re right,” she relented, “it was.  I’m sorry...but…” she was cut off by a high pitched squeal, which was quickly followed by Trixie shouting Lucifer’s name.  Chloe couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face as she watched Trixie, with her friends in tow, barrel through the house.  Reluctantly, she turned back to Dan and offered a somewhat apologetic smile.  “We’ll finish arguing about this later,” she told more than promised him, before leaving him sputtering at the grill to go and rescue her new partner, who was currently using his gift as a shield to fend off Trixie.</p><p>“This is Lucifer,” Chloe heard Trixie tell her friends as she approached, “he’s the actual Devil.”</p><p>“Nuh huh,” her friend Kelly countered, just as Meredith’s eyes widened and Olivia whispered an awed, “no way.”</p><p>“Total way,” Lucifer piped up, looking and sounding pleased and smug.  “I’d prove it, but…”</p><p>“But that would ruin the party,” Chloe interjected cheerfully as she placed a hand on Trixie’s head and ruffled her hair lightly, “and we wouldn’t want that would we, Monkey?”</p><p>“No,” Trixie agreed somewhat reluctantly, if the slight whine in her tone was anything to go by, “we wouldn’t.”</p><p>“So then why don’t you and your friends put Lucifer’s gift on the coffee table with the others and go get washed up.  We should be ready to eat soon.”</p><p>Trixie excitedly snatched the box out of Lucifer’s hands and tore off across the house, her three friends trailing happily after her. “What do you say?” Chloe called at her retreating back. A “Thanks, Lucifer!” was shouted back, causing Chloe to chuckle slightly despite her daughter’s borderline rudeness. Once they were alone, she schooled her herself and turned a stern look at her partner. It was her “mom-look,” which felt remarkably appropriate. “Please stop telling my daughter that you’re the devil.”</p><p>The look she received in return was one of mock indignation. “I’ve never told her I was the devil.” She raised an eyebrow at that, face shifting slightly from disbelieving mom to disbelieving cop. Both demanding he rethink his story. “I’ve just...always confirmed her correct assumptions.”</p><p>“Well, would you please stop?” she implored. “You’re going to...give her nightmares or something.”</p><p>Lucifer huffed in response. “Hardly. In fact, she seems quite delighted at the idea.”</p><p>Chloe rolled her eyes in an attempt to counteract the grin that broke loose with a choked laugh. “That might actually be worse.”</p><p>“Come now, Detective, surely you must concede that there are worse things than being friends with the Devil.”</p><p>Chloe just shook her head, smiling wirely this time as she regarded him. “I’ll let you know...if I ever happen to meet him.”  A moment of amicable silence passed between them, before she asked, “Anyway...I got the impression when we spoke on the phone that you weren’t coming.”</p><p>He scoffed at that and shifted the container in his hands. “Yes, well...it was theorized that my aversion to offspring might have less to do with sticky fingers and more to do with...other...things. I’m here to disprove that...Besides, I could hardly refuse an invitation from my lovely new partner.  It would set a terrible precedence for our budding relationship, don’t you think?”  He looked at her somewhat uncertainly, with something close to fear in his eyes. “Is it alright?  That I’m here?”</p><p>She smiled reassuringly. “Absolutely. I’m just surprised is all.”</p><p>“Pleasantly so?”</p><p>She hesitated briefly, just to toy with him a little. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”</p><p>They smiled at each other, locking eyes as they did.  She couldn’t help but find herself drawn into the depths of his. She wasn’t enthralled, as she’d seen others become, but she couldn’t deny the intrigue. The eyes were supposed to be the windows to the soul. If that was true, then his was ancient, still full of fire and life, flowing over with excitement and playfulness. All of it masking a deep pain and hurt, unfathomable loss and shame. Like the two sides of a walking contradiction.</p><p>She cleared her throat before looking away, unable to stop the flush of embarrassment. When she turned back, he was looking at her with a strange expression on his face. Dumbfounded was the closest she could come to placing it. Resisting the urge to clear her throat again, she gestured to the container he was still holding. “Are those brownies?”</p><p>“Yes!” he beamed, as he held up the container as if to give her a better look, “homemade and everything, with just that little extra kick every good party needs.  Not that this constitutes much of a party.  I mean, three friends and your parents?  Is your offspring socially inept?”</p><p>“Wait, what?” she asked stupidly before quickly shifting to denial.  “No.  We just...encourage her to focus on quality, not quantity.”</p><p>“Right,” he drawled, “sounds like something you’d say to a spawn with subpar social skills.”</p><p>Chloe scoffed with indignation.  “Not all of us live to be the life of the party, Lucifer.”</p><p>“Spoken like someone who’s never truly been.”  Chloe opened her mouth to counter, but before she could get a word out he cut her off.  “But don’t worry, Detective,” he continued as he removed the lid to his container and held it out in offering, “with a little help, you just might get there.  Brownie?”</p><p>She looked at him and his brownies stupidly for a moment before realization dawned. “Please tell me you didn’t bring pot brownies to my eight-year-old’s birthday party.”</p><p>“Well of course I did, Detective.  What’s a party without a little herbal recreation?  Plus I knew you and Detective Douche couldn’t be counted on to provide.”</p><p>“Lucifer…” Chloe started before blowing out a sigh of frustration that bordered on anger. “Just…” she latched onto his elbow and herded him and his elicit goods deeper into the kitchen towards the trash.  Pulling open the bin, she looked from it to him expectedly.</p><p>He scoffed in disbelief as he too looked between her and the garbage.  “Surely, you must be joking.”</p><p>“Nope,” she replied, popping the ‘p,’ but otherwise remaining completely serious.</p><p>“Detective, I can understand and even...begrudgingly conceded that perhaps the urchin and her horde should not partake, but that should not stop you and I...or, Dad forbid, even your douchey ex from enjoying.”  He smiled beseechingly at her, before continuing, “The cannabutter was made from premium charas.  Not to mention that I am a superior baker; you won’t even taste the grass...”</p><p>“Lucifer,” she grounded out between clenched teeth, “not you or me or anyone else is going to get high at my…”</p><p>“Get high?” he interrupted with a laugh.  “Detective, I could eat this entire plate myself and barely even start to buzz, let alone peak.  No, this is just the warm-up.  I’ve got another kilo or two waiting back at the penthouse.”</p><p>“That,” Chloe started, before sputtering out, momentarily lost for words as she processed what she’d been told and what it implied about his drug use and tolerances.  “That is so not the point.”</p><p>“No?” he interrupted again, with seemingly genuine confusion.</p><p>“No,” she stated firmly, because...honestly?  “The point is that marijuana is not welcome in my house, no matter the occasion.  Now, trash them.”  She made to reach for them, only to have him pull away, lifting them up and out of her reach.  “Seriously?”</p><p>“What if I just...stash them out of sight and reach.  No one will know they’re even here except you and I, and I’ll be sure to take them with me when I leave.”  To emphasize his point, he slid them easily onto the top of the fridge, pushing them far back so they wouldn’t be visible to someone without his height.  “See?  No one will be any the wiser.”</p><p>“Fine,” she relinquished, barely resisting throwing her arms up in exasperation, “but I swear to God…”</p><p>“Please,” Lucifer scoffed, “if Dad had any objections, which he doesn’t, he wouldn’t have created the plant in the first place.”</p><p>“...if Trixie or any of her friends get into them,” she continued, ignoring his deluded interruption, “I’ll arrest you myself.”</p><p>“Noted,” he consented cheekily.  “Now, what can I do to help get this party started?  You know, before the guests die of boredom.”</p><p>“The girls are being well enough entertained,” she defended, her confidence in the statement growing as a sudden burst of screams and laughter erupted from Trixie’s room.  “But if you want to be helpful, you can go check on Dan and the burgers.”</p><p>“What?” he asked incredulously, “Does the Douche’s incompetence encompass not only detectiving but also patty flipping?  You know, whatever it is you saw in him, I’ll never guess.”</p><p>“Patio door is straight through the living room,” she informed him, while gesturing vaguely towards the back of the house, ignoring the insult and ducking into the fridge to start retrieving the various chilled dishes.</p><p>*~*</p><p>“Hello, Daniel.”</p><p>Dan tried not to cringe as the sing-song voice grated on his nerves, forcing him to clench his teeth and tighten his grip on the turner.  “Lucifer,” he ground out as he continued to pile finished burgers and dogs onto a plate.  “I guess it wasn’t enough to just invade our workplace, but you had to snake your way into our personal lives as well.”</p><p>Lucifer offered a smile in return, one that was smug and all knowing, before taking a bite of what looked to be a huge brownie.  “You would not be the first to liken me to a serpent, Detective Douche...but like them, you too would be wrong.  I arrived then as I did today, by invitation.”</p><p>Dan scoffed.  “I thought your schtick was the Devil,” he mocked, as he switched off the burners, “or do you like to switch it up on weekends?”</p><p>The tall club owner frowned through his stuffed mouth.  “I don’t believe I follow,” he said, the chocolate stuffed to one side of his face muffling his voice slightly.  “I mean I often ‘switch it up,’ weekend or not, though I doubt you're referring to bedpartners and positions.”</p><p>“What?  No, man,” Dan quickly replied, mentally trying to scrub the image from his mind, “vampire!  You know, with the invitations?”  He sighed with frustration before letting out a humorless laugh and shaking his head.  “Forget it.  What the hell are you doing here anyway?”  He asked, jabbing his turner towards the other man and coming up just shy of poking him with it.  “And don’t give me that bullshit about invitations.  This is our eight-year-old’s birthday party; hardly seems to fit your kind of scene.”</p><p>Lucifer huffed out a laugh and pushed the turner to the side with a motion that managed to be both gentle and threatening.  Dan didn’t back down, but rather squared his shoulders, planning to meet the challenge head on and beg Chloe and Trixie’s forgiveness later.  He met the other man’s eyes and he immediately could believe, he could believe he was looking at the Devil.  All his bravado slipped away and he broke out into a cold sweat, crushed beneath the weight of the other man’s menace.</p><p>“Well, Danny-Dildo, surprisingly, I’m not feeling the need to explain myself to you.  Both your daughter and your wife desire me to be here, beyond that my reasons are my own.  Understood?”</p><p>Dan tried to answer, but his throat was tight, preventing him from squeezing any words out.  He managed a nod, but just barely, his muscles locked with fear.  The small movement, however, proved to be enough, as it drew a smile from Lucifer, which lifted the blanket of terror that had been threatening to smother him.</p><p>“Good,” Lucifer asserted, stepping back and adjusting his cufflinks.  “Now, try to stop being a complete douche.  Yeah?  You’ll ruin your daughter’s birthday.”</p><p>*~*</p><p>Dan sulked in the shade of the umbrella, nursing a beer and watching with disdain as Chloe and Lucifer continued to play with the giant Jenga.  The girls had long since given up, abandoning the game, which was made all the more difficult due to the uneven sand base, to have a squirt gun battle.  Overall, he felt he’d done well tolerating the intrusive jackass, putting up with his jabs and overall unpleasantness, for Trixie’s sake.  He just couldn’t understand the appeal.  Frankly, he found the man to be selfish and rude, not at all charming...nauseating, even.  So when Trixie and her friends became otherwise engaged, and he was no longer being forced to stomach the overgrown dick, he’d retreated to the chairs and the adult cooler.</p><p>He’d just finished his...fourth beer, and wasn’t that going to piss Chloe off, and was reaching for his fifth when Trixie ran up to him.  Panting and out of breath, she plopped down into the chair beside him and pulled a water out of the kid’s cooler.  “Hi, Daddy!” she enthused before proceeding to chug half the bottle.</p><p>“Hey, Monkey,” he replied warmly, glad to hear that he wasn’t quite slurring his words.  “You better slow down, you’ll get brain-freeze.”</p><p>She finished the bottle with an exaggerated ‘ah,’ before asking, “How come you’re not playing with Mommy and Lucifer?”</p><p>“Daddy just…” he sighed, blowing out some of the pent up frustration he’d been clinging to.  “Daddy just needed a break.  That’s all.  How ‘bout you?  Are you having a good time?”</p><p>“Uh huh,” she replied happily, before digging into the cooler for more water.</p><p>“Hey, Monkey, can I ask you a question?” Dan asked, casting a quick glance to the beach to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard.  “Why did you want Lucifer to come to your party?”</p><p>“He’s nice and he says funny things,” Trixie replied with a shrug, “and he stopped that bully girl from making fun of me.”</p><p>“The bully girl from school?  The one you kicked?”</p><p>“Uh huh.”</p><p>“How did he make her stop teasing you?”</p><p>She shrugged again.  “He talked to her that day at school.  I don’t know what he said, but it must have been pretty scary ‘cause she screamed.  Oh!” she exclaimed after a moment, startling him slightly, “do you think he showed her hell?  Or maybe his devil face?  He has to have a devil face, right?  ‘Cause he doesn’t look like a person in the pictures I found on Google”</p><p>“Munchkin, you know Lucifer’s not really the devil.”  Dan stated, hoping that her answer would be a definitive ‘yes,’ but knowing it wouldn’t.</p><p>“He says he is.  Why would he say he is if he isn’t?”</p><p>“Well,” Dan started, trying to keep his voice light and unaccusing, “people don’t always tell the truth, sometimes they lie.”</p><p>“It doesn’t feel like he’s lying.  It feels real.”</p><p>Dan frowned, confused by his daughter’s choice of words and disturbed by the implications.  “Maybe it feels real, because he believes it’s real.”</p><p>“Why would he believe it's real, if he knows he’s lying?” she implored, her tone becoming increasingly more stressed.</p><p>“Well...sometimes...sometimes, people who are mentally ill believe things even when they aren’t true,” he explained, his tone instinctively becoming soft and assuring.  “Their brains don’t always work quite right and that can make them see things or hear sounds that aren’t there or believe things that aren’t true.  Sometimes...that can make them dangerous.”</p><p>“Do you think Lucifer’s dangerous?”</p><p>Dan nodded.  “Yeah, Monkey, I think he is, and that’s why I don’t want you hanging out with him.”</p><p>Trixie studied him for a minute, her expression fixed on one of seriousness as she considered what she’d been told.  Finally, she shook her head.  “I don’t think he’s dangerous,” she disagreed firmly, “or Mommy wouldn’t work with him.”  She paused for a moment, further collecting her thoughts, before adding, “I think he really likes Mommy and wants to help.  And if he’s sick, then he probably really needs friends.  You shouldn’t not be friends with someone just because they're sick.”</p><p>Dan starred dumbly for a moment, slack jawed in both surprise and pride.  “You’re right, just because someone is sick doesn’t mean they can’t be your friend.  But…” he fumbled for a second, trying to think of how he could further steer the conversation, “isn’t he...too old to be your friend?”</p><p>“No!” she replied distractedly.  “He’s just like a big kid!”  Her name being called across the beach, pulled her attention away.  She jumped out of her chair in response and took off across the sand, a hasty goodbye thrown over her shoulder as she went.</p><p>*~*</p><p>Lucifer smiled warmly at the Detective as he helped her carry the last of the beach regalia to the small storage shed alongside her mother’s house. He was feeling…decidedly high, more than he should with just a single plate of edibles.  Not that he was complaining. The intoxicated state had made the spawn and swarm of miscreants. even the Douche, tolerable, allowing him to relax and admittedly enjoy himself. Part of him knew he should be curious, maybe even concerned, but he just couldn’t bring himself to be. He was too content...too happy. “I had an uncommonly good time today,” he told the Detective as he handed her the giant Jenga case he was holding.</p><p>She snorted out a laugh, briefly catching his eye before taking the game and shoving it into the shed. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”</p><p>“Mmm, quite,” he replied distractedly as he leaned against the corner of the small building. With a little effort he was pretty sure he could melt right into it, become one with the shed.</p><p>“Lucifer?” the Detective called, pulling his attention back to her. “Are you…” she peered closely at him, craning her head and all but standing on her tip-toes.  “Are you high?”</p><p>He nodded languidly. “I shouldn’t be,” he answered truthfully, “but if this is the new norm, who am I to argue?”</p><p>“Lucifer…” She shook her head and rolled her eyes, clearly displeased, which was doing nothing for his buzz.  “You promised me you wouldn’t get high!”</p><p>“Nooooo,” he drawled as he leaned into her personal space and bopped her nose, grinning when she swatted him away with annoyance.  “What I promised, Detective, was to keep your Urchin and her band of heathens from getting hold of them.  Which they did not...as I ate them all.  So, as always, I upheld my end of the deal entirely.”  He paused for a moment letting his eyes rake her up and down.  She really was quite beautiful.  “You really should have had one,” he told her, as he leaned in yet again and leered down at her, “would have loosened you up a bit, got you over the hangup that’s stopping you from sleeping with me.”</p><p>“Ok, you know what, as much as I’ve enjoyed your company today…”</p><p>“You enjoyed my company today?” he interrupted, all but beaming at the praise.</p><p>“Yes,” she admitted, though her posture and tone said otherwise, “yes, I did, but then you had to go and ruin it by getting high and now…” she blew out a sigh, genuinely upset, and it pained him to know that he might have caused that.  “Now, you have to go home.”</p><p>“It’s fine,” he agreed, only a pinch remorsefully, “the ‘party’s’ over anyway.  I’ll just…” he hesitated, torn between wanting to argue and not wanting to upset her further.  “Well, I’ll just see myself out.  Give Beatrice my regards.”</p><p>He pushed off the shed, intent on making his way to the convertible, when she latched on to his arm.  Stunned, he turned back and gave her an inquiring look.</p><p>“Sorry!” she said hastily, immediately releasing him, “but you cannot drive while intoxicated.  Just...go inside, say goodbye to Trixie, and I’ll call you an Uber.”</p><p>“Right,” he said, confused at her reaction, but unable to process the reason due to his high.  “I’ll just…” he gestured towards the front door, “Thank you, Detective.”  He couldn’t help but smile at her nod, before making his way inside once more.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading!  Kudos and Comments are always appreciated.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. s01e06:  Favorite Son</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>My take on what happens:</p>
<p>1) Immediately after Lucifer discovers that his wings are not in the container.</p>
<p>2) After the above mentioned scene, but before Lucifer goes to see Linda.</p>
<p>3)  After Lucifer's last session with Linda.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Many thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/venividivictorious/pseuds/venividivictorious">venividivictorious</a> for all the help and suggestions as my beta reader.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“They’re gone,” Lucifer whispered, as he stared into the empty cell of the container, biting down on the surge of emotion that welled up inside him and threatened to consume him.  He couldn’t put a name to it; disbelief, rage, sorrow, loss...perhaps all of them, working together to twist at his gut and pull at his heart.  His chest became heavy, and he struggled to breathe against the weight of it.  The ruined flesh between his shoulder blades ached from the loss, knowing that they would not be made whole.  “They’re gone,” he whispered again.</p>
<p>He closed his eyes and willed himself to take a deep, steady breath.  “It doesn’t matter,” he murmured, ignoring the ache that flared up his back and cried out for the missing limbs.  “You wanted them gone, so it doesn’t matter.”  He forced himself to step back and close the false doors, attempting to barricade the missing wings from both his heart and mind.  He ran his hand down the seam before resting his head against the cold metal.  “It doesn’t matter,” he told himself once more. “They. Do. Not. Matter.”  He took one last deep calming breath and then turned and walked out of the container.</p>
<p>His mind continued to reel as he made his way through the warehouse, playing through a vicious cycle of grief, anger, and apprehension. Grief over the loss of his wings. Anger over having them stolen. Apprehension over the potential repercussions for allowing divinity loose onto humanity. Each time the cruel loop ran its course, he attempted to banish all thoughts of them from his mind completely, only to have the cycle begin anew.  It was in this state that he emerged from the confines of the building into the throng of policemen, and was immediately assaulted by the Detective.</p>
<p>“Hey,” she called, her approach prompting him to stand straighter and adjust his cufflinks.  “I’m going to need you to come back to the station with me.  We need to give a statement to Internal Affairs concerning what happened to Renny.”</p>
<p>“Renny?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.  You know, the guy who killed Erwin the security guard?  Stole your dolls?”</p>
<p>Lucifer scoffed. “You saw it, he jumped from the roof.  I mean...what more is there to say?”  He asked, genuinely confused and truly wanting nothing more than to escape this place and return to Lux.</p>
<p>“No, I know,” she assured him.  “It's just that technically he died while being pursued by a ‘police consultant,’ so there will be an investigation into his death.”</p>
<p>He huffed in annoyance. “Detective, it’s late and I’m…”  He struggled to find the words. What was he exactly?  Nothing he wanted to admit, that much was certain. “I’m...not feeling particularly chatty, so if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather return home.”</p>
<p>She studied him for a minute and he struggled not to fidget under her gaze. “Ok,” she agreed, something in her tone causing him to bristle, as if she was talking to a tantruming child, “but we’ll need to meet with IA first thing in the morning.”</p>
<p>“Yes, yes,” he conceded begrudgingly, “I will submit myself to the lords of bureaucracy first thing in the morning.”</p>
<p>“Ok, just, um...let me finish up a few things here and I’ll drive you back to your car.”</p>
<p>The statement came out more like a question, so he nodded curtly in agreement.  “Fine.  I’ll be waiting by your heap.”  He didn’t wait for a response, merely walked off towards where he’d left her cruiser.  Part of him wanted to shut himself inside, but the thought alone of confining himself inside the cramped space was more than he could bear. So, he settled for leaning against the passenger door.  He fished a fag out of his case and lit up, hoping the familiar, repetitive motion would calm his nerves as he resigned himself to wait.</p>
<p>*~*</p>
<p>“You are okay?” Chloe asked after about fifteen minutes of driving in uncomfortably tense silence. </p>
<p>“Why wouldn’t I be?” Lucifer asked absently, refusing to look at her and continuing to stare out the side window. </p>
<p>“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” she replied, trying to mask her suspicion with concern. The concern was genuine, but it was slowly being overrun by the other. “I mean...tonight was a win on almost all accounts. We stopped Erwin’s killer, saved Cutter’s life, found your container, and you got your dolls back…”</p>
<p>“You’re forgetting the unfortunate suicide of Renny,” he pointed out mildly.</p>
<p>“Like I said, a win on almost all accounts.”  She risked taking her eyes off the road to glance over at him. Despite his large frame, somehow the person sitting in her passenger seat looked small and vulnerable. Two words she never thought she’d associate with Lucifer Morningstar.  “And since when do you care about Renny?  Or anyone else’s life for that matter?”</p>
<p>She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth, but there was no taking them back. “Lucifer, I’m sor…”</p>
<p>He finally peeled himself away from the window to level her with a look.  The hurt and loss written in his eyes was disproportionate to the conversation they were having. “Do you truly believe me incapable of caring?” he asked, “That I’m some...heartless monster, capable of only torture and torment?”</p>
<p>“No!” she denied, “No, Lucifer, that’s not what I mean.”</p>
<p>He scoffed, “You’re a terrible liar, Detective, and I truly detest liars.”</p>
<p>“I’m not lying.” Anger crept into her voice as she defended herself. “I know that you can and do care about those close to you. Like Maze and Delilah and...me” she managed a soft smile as she glanced towards him, pulling up to where they’d left his car.  “But not for random strangers, which is what Renny is...or was. So, I’ll ask again, what’s going on with you?  Was there something else in that container?”</p>
<p>He laughed unpleasantly. “No, Detective, there wasn’t.”</p>
<p>“Was there supposed to be?” she asked as she put the cruiser in park and turned to fully face him.</p>
<p>He opened his mouth, but only managed to stutter slightly, before sighing in what could only be described as regret and defeat. “Good night, Detective,” he finally uttered before stepping out of the vehicle.</p>
<p>“Lucifer, wait!” she called.  He ignored her, reaching the corvette in a few long strides.  She didn’t chase after him, and he didn’t look back, simply climbed into his car and sped off.</p>
<p>*~*</p>
<p>Lucifer grunted in surprise as a pair of soft lips attacked his mouth and rough stubble scratched along his cheek, bringing him back into the room, back into the world.  He reciprocated, opening his mouth to accept and deepen the kiss while bringing his hands up to rest on defined hips, feeling a hard dick press into his stomach.  His own responded in kind, his body moving on autopilot as his mind awakened more slowly.  The sounds of loud music filtered in, along with a cacophony of voices and laughter, and other sounds of pleasure.  The sweet metallic scent of cocaine wafted through his nose, while its bitter taste danced across his tongue, masked slightly by that of whiskey and scotch.</p>
<p>They weren’t at the penthouse, hadn’t been for almost two days now.  It wasn’t far enough, didn’t offer enough of an escape.  The chateau, on the other hand, did, so it would seem, as he couldn’t currently recall what he’d been avoiding, at least not through the calloused hand stroking his cock.</p>
<p>He leaned forward, bringing his body closer to the one in front of him and ran his hands down the muscled back to grip the firm ass, moaning his pleasure into an ear.  A hand snaked inside his robe, needy fingers trailed up his arm and wrapped around to his back, digging and clawing at his skin.  Lucifer hissed as they tore along one scar, eliciting pain which was by no means pleasurable and ripping open the dam of memories.  He gasped as they crashed into him, the force of them knocking him about, squeezing the air out of his lungs, suffocating him.</p>
<p>He roughly pushed the body off him and stumbled to his feet, drawing the attention of the room.  Twenty-some sets of eyes bore into him, judging him, exposing in a way that he hadn’t felt in eons.  “Everyone out,” he ordered, though it came out more like a plea, pulling cruel smiles and pitying looks to their faces.  His eyes flashed as anger swelled within him, the twin hellfires burning the laughter and sympathy from their faces.  “Out!” he commanded, allowing his tone to deepen and vibrate with the fury that threatened to unravel on them.  He remained still as they scattered about, fleeing from the residence like sheep from a wolf.</p>
<p>When the last of them were gone, Lucifer sank back down onto the couch and buried his head in his hands.  It wasn’t working.  Nothing was working; not the drugs, or the booze, or the sex.  It had been almost twenty-four hours, and he couldn’t drive them from his mind, couldn’t stop the phantom pains from ripping through his back, like the demon blades that had severed them in the first place.  His wings.  He had wanted to be rid of them.  He still wanted to be rid of them and all that they symbolized, all the baggage that they harbored.  Yet...he craved them all the same, loved them all the same.</p>
<p>He canted to his head up to the ceiling, ignoring the tears that streaked down his cheeks.  “I wish to be rid of you!” he whispered, “Why won’t you just let me be rid of you?”  The words came out small and weak, and he found himself both enraged and embarrassed by his own frailty.  This couldn’t go on.  He wouldn’t allow it to go on, but...he didn’t know how to stop it, didn’t know how to expel them from his mind, how to...hate them.</p>
<p>Wiping the tears from his cheeks, he searched through the mess of booze, drugs, and clothing that surrounded him, until he finally found a phone buried within the turmoil.  He cleared his throat and wiped his nose, as he dialed the now familiar number, unable to stop the sigh of relief when she answered.</p>
<p>“Dr. Linda?” he asked, managing to keep his voice steady, “It’s Lucifer.  I was wondering...well I was wondering if you’d be willing to meet with me.  Tonight if possible.”  </p>
<p>*~*</p>
<p>Though he was loath to admit it, Lucifer fled. He fled Dr. Linda’s Office, ashamed and embarrassed of the outburst and the violence he’d displayed. He fled the memories and the torment, both physical and emotional, that came with them. He fled his name, his title, and the rejection, not just from his Father, Mother, and the Host of Heaven, but also the entirety of humanity, that it stood for. His chest felt tight and his skin burned and cracked, and he fled.</p>
<p>He fumbled the keys in the parking lot, dropping them twice, before leaving them on the floorboards and simply forcing the engine to turn over. The corvette protested as he abused her, grinding gears and pushing her to limits that the transmission could barely withstand. The streets of L.A. flew past as he drove, forgoing all concerns for traffic laws. Wind blew through his hair, the sensation eliciting more memories.  Memories that stabbed into his heart and back like knives.</p>
<p>Lucifer pulled the corvette into the garage beneath Lux, throwing the car into neutral and yanking on the parking brake before it managed to fully stop.  He moved quickly, his steps just shy of running, around the vehicle and made his way to the elevator.  Once he was inside the safety of the penthouse, he tore off his jacket and shirt and threw them aside, his flesh itching and raw, unable to withstand the feel of the fabric.  He poured himself a drink and then another and another, before throwing both the glass and the decanter across the room, as a cry lit with agony and sorrow and loss ripped from his chest.</p>
<p>He took a deep shuddering breath as he ran his fingers through his hair, pulling at the strands in anger.  Everything felt as if it was closing in on him.  Even the room, designed to be large and open, felt suffocatingly small, and he found himself stumbling out onto the balcony.  He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, trying to remember how to breath, trying to push it all away, before Makizeen came to stand behind him.</p>
<p>“Someone’s got them, Mazikeen,” he ground out, ashamed of the despair that tainted his words, “someone’s got my wings.”</p>
<p>He flinched when she touched him, her fingers dancing over his skin, featherlight touches caressing his scars.  It was gentle and kind and so very wrong.  The Lord of Hell did not need, did not want, could not tolerate, pity from a demon.  Rage burned through him, consuming his pain and anguish, filling the hollowness with a fire that burnt through his skin until it was as rough and raw as the scars on his back.  He turned on her, one hand latching on to the deceitful wrist and the other her throat, claws digging in as he squeezed, threatening to break skin.</p>
<p>“Ek wil hê hulle moet gevind word,” he commanded, his voice low and soft, but drumming with power.</p>
<p>Mazikeen smiled as she took a hold of the hand clamped around her throat and drug it up to her lips, kissing and sucking on the marred skin.  “Ons sal hulle vind,” she promised, “as ons die hele L.A. moet afbrand, sal ons hulle vind.”</p>
<p>Lucifer couldn’t stop the small contented growl that rumbled out of his chest at the vow, at the veracity of his servant renewing her pledge to him.  He drew her against him, pulling roughly on the wrist still within his grasp, before releasing her.  He rested his hands on her hips, before sliding them around to grip her ass, lifting her up to more easily take her mouth with his.  He carried her over to one of the chaise longue, as he explored her mouth with his tongue, reclaiming what had always been his.</p>
<p>It was only when he put her down upon the sofa chair that he released her, pulling away long enough to toe off his shoes and rid himself of his trousers, before kneeling overtop.  He kissed her again, deep and needy, bruising her lips with his want, before trailing down her neck, giving attention to the smooth, perfectly soft skin of her breasts that peaked out of the top of her tube-top.  He continued down her body, biting and sucking at her exposed stomach as he undid her pants, stopping only long enough to help her shimmy out of the tight leather and her boots.</p>
<p>He continued his exploration south, as toned abs led to sharp hip bones and then muscular thighs, before deviating in, kissing along the line of her inner thigh until reaching her labia.  He glanced up at her then, grinning into her groin as he reached up to trail his index finger down the middle of her top, the clawed tip easily tearing the fabric and releasing her breasts.  She cursed at him, as she pushed him back down, thrusting her pelvis into his face, demanding he service her, which he did willingly.  His tongue drew slow circles around her clit, while his claws teased her nipples.  She moaned, tilting her head back and arching her pelvis upward, pressing into him and demanding more, until she was trembling beneath him, her entire body convulsing under the force of her orgasm.</p>
<p>Lucifer continued to tease her, drawing out her pleasure until it became too much and she pushed him away, pulling her legs closed as she did.  Unwilling to be denied, he forced her knees back apart and thrust his cock into her still contracted pussy, ignoring her cry of pain.  She did not fight him, but rather welcomed him, relaxing her body to further accept him, because with her, there was no doubting who he was.  There was no Samael, no fallen angel, or club owner, or police consultant.  There was only Lucifer, monstrous and powerful, the King of Hell.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The "demonic" that Maze and Lucifer speak is actually Afrikaans.  Here is the translation:</p>
<p>“I want them found.”</p>
<p>“We will find them,” she promised, “if we have to burn down all of L.A., we will find them.”</p>
<p>*~*</p>
<p>Thank you for reading!  Kudos and Comments are always appreciated.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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